


One Exception

by iExpress



Category: Twelve Forever (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Awkward Romance, Comfort, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Erotic, Erotica, Existential Horror, F/F, Fluff, Growing Up, Horror, Hurt, Kinks, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mystery, Names, Other, Past Torture, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Psychology, Romance, Sex, Slow Romance, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iExpress/pseuds/iExpress
Summary: It was hard to tell where she was, or what the place was. It was hard to tell why she felt called to this place ever since she ended up in it. Hardest of all, she would have to admit, would be explaining what was it about the dangerous aura of the Woman that kept her coming back. But the deeper she decided to dig for answers about both herself and the Woman, the more she found out about Endless. And the deeper she would bury herself.The Butt Witch/OC. Used to be with Reader but I'm having fun fleshing this character out.
Relationships: Butt Witch/OC, The Butt Witch/OC - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. One and Only Time I Died

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been brought to light thanks to the story Scorching Saturn by 43501. To be honest, I had a surprisingly similar idea planned for a long time but there are quite a few tidbits of ideas I borrowed since they largely inspired me to finally start writing this - I'd feel downright silly if I didn't credit them for that, at least!
> 
> Follow the links in the story, should you want to enjoy some musical accompaniment.
> 
> Any and all comments welcome. 
> 
> Until the next one.

I can not tell for certain how I ended up here.

I remember meeting the girl from across the street, Regina, just as she was coming back home from school. For what it's worth, I don't dislike her. She can be a bit annoying but she's a cheerful, optimistic kid. Rather, I envy her. Prime of her teenage years – nearly thirteen, if I recall - and she still indulges thing the rest of the world has long since outgrown, not ashamed about it at all.

I remember that particular moment when the two of us passed each other. I gave her a sideways glance, and she was too immersed with the newest issue of Battlesnake Melissa comic book to notice me. I know her pretty well. I know how much she loves the character. I even know where she usually buys her issues.

I'm pretty sure she doesn't know my name.

I remember her gleeful eyes and childlike smile, the laughter that escaped her. I haven't seen nor heard myself like that in years.

I remember the scent of deodorant, something she hadn't started using until recently, and had clearly overdone it - it was a strong, candy-like scent. I remember how her mother, though good-natured, constantly reprimanded her, and how people around her kept telling her to grow up. I remember her refusing to grow up, and refusing it with a smile.

I wish it had been possible for me to do the same.

Next, I remember rage. I remember wanting to steal whatever it was that kept her inner child so intact, and wanting to steal it so bad it had nearly blinded me with anger. I remember entering my house with these thoughts from the darkest corners of my mind, locking the door and I remember, with some weird, misplaced clearance, how I in that moment broke down. I couldn't stop the tears yet again, and I hated myself even further for it. What wouldn't I give, I remember thinking, for a day in Regina's shoes.

… It was, and still is a lie. I want not a day but a lifetime. Whatever it is that's holding her so firmly in her innocent world, I want it, crave it, need it, for living a life like this is _impossible_. Living a life where that of a child seems so much more attractive is no way to live. Desperately, I need things to change, I need things to go back to the way they once were and through the tears I remember the days long gone and somehow, miraculously, it brings out a smile... and I ask whatever is out there, listening, to help me because I need... I **_need-_** ** _I NEED_** -

Just then, something had happened. That _something_ remained a mystery to me. There was a blinding light of gold and a sensation, like being pulled through a pipe, like being moved by a force. I'm not sure but I think I might have fainted.

When I open my eyes, I'm standing in… well, I don't really know. The platform is wide and crystalline in appearance but is decorated a lot like a child's toy drum. It's everything else, however. The surrounding are baffling by every definition of the word. The beach meets the forest and a jungle close by, an orange, glistening creak flows through its sand as if it were a natural thing to do, and not far away, I can spy mountains and an equally huge chair, as if growing, and stuff and stuff and stuff, piled upon each other, remnant of things long gone, or thrown away, or just _nonsense_ (?) all around me. In the distance, I can spot what looks like a bunch of tiny... somethings, for the lack of the better word, playing ball. One could be described as a rabbit.

Then I notice myself. My outfit is… different. I might as well say it's everything I ever imagined myself to be when I was little, mashed into something… perfect. It's incredibly reminisced of something from an old cartoon I watched but whatever show it was, it escapes my memory. It is a white and orange one piece, with accents in blue and yellow, elaborate "space" boots, and a few different straps and... buttons?... over it. There are small, wing like shoulder pads. My hair is no longer without shape and lifeless. It's a joy just to look at it and feel its silkiness under my fingers. When I notice my reflection in the platform beneath me, I'm astounded that it's under any circumstances possible for me to look... well. Pretty.

The only reason I remain calm in the face of madness that is in every ounce of my surroundings, is that I'm pretty sure it's all in my head. While it is not exactly common for me to suffer such delusions, I stray carelessly into the jungle, because why fear whatever it is I dreamed up while clearly having a concussion? I have no other explanation, as it is. So if I really am to die in my own house in a hallway, I might as well enjoy this pleasant madness while it lasts.

The few inhabitants that take notice of me are polite. They say hello. Some of them invite me to play but I'd rather explore. Plus, I can't help but think very few of them seem… not entirely there. A green skinned man with rich beard runs by, screaming incoherently. Some small creatures of hard-to-define species follow, screaming, and carrying donuts. I don't know what the game is but I'm not that invested in finding out. Something out there... calls me, I realize. Is there a final purpose to be found here? I venture deeper into the jungle… or is it a forest? Woods? Swamp? At some point I end up at a lakeside, and not a few minutes later, at the bottom of the mountain. Nearly every step seems to be a different experience, different feeling. I nearly fall into a small, deeply, unnaturally blue stream at one point. It smells like citrus fruit and I'm glad I didn't fall into it – though I crave my childhood days, I don't miss the sticky hands.

... I feel like something about those words is not entirely my own but dismiss them once an unusual sight peeks from behind the trees. A fortress? A tower?

Ah... A gigantic vacuum cleaner. Well. Sure, why not.

I can tell there is a small path trekked into the ground to it, and I start to wonder about it.

Does someone live here? I consider the idea, and it's pretty entertaining. I find myself curious if the inside of it could possibly look a home at all.

… as my eyes notice the giant button on the side of the 'building', I wonder whether I should push it or not. It seems like the logical way to enter a vacuum cleaner but it could be unsafe.

… _Well, I'm probably dying anyway, so...!_ Taking a deep breath, and with strength I didn't know I possessed, I push the button. The light breeze turns into a strong wind and the next thing I know I am sucked through a long dark pipe. I expect to land in sand, or trash, or whatever there is to vacuum around here.

I certainly don't expect to hit a hard, cold marble floor.

The fall was high and it hurt but I'm surprisingly intact. I assume the fancy suit wasn't just for looks.

I take the time to look and walk around, and feel miserable when I realize even the inside of the vacuum cleaner looks better than my house... _Far better_ , in fact. Though not entirely in my taste, it's impeccably decorated. The room is basically a dome, with walls of pink, lush, fat carpets all over them. A luxurious queen bed is in the middle, and odd specks of light decorate the room, suspended in mid air, just... floating. There is a small compact kitchen. More than enough things for anyone to entertain themselves with, from music and books to video tapes and a bunch of what looks like board games stuffed in one corner. It was like a bachelor's dream home… With a very specific taste to it.

Eerie music fills the room. Hypnotic, repetitive, mystical almost. It has its way of worming into my head. It chimes and chimes, and just standing in the room feels like standing in a moving, rotating circle. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I'm not sure how well it works.

I see no one but the lights are on. I'm not sure if that means anything in this world but for whats it's worth, I decide there is probably someone around here.

"H-hello?" I croak out and realize I haven't spoken in hours. A voice answers from behind me.

"[My my](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLJj-A3uWbw), what an interesting intruder you are. What has drawn such a tiny thing like you all the way here?"

The suave, masculine voice that sends shivers down my spine doesn't at all match the person I see when I turn around. I'm not sure where exactly she was until this point but the voluptuous, green-skinned woman dressed in skin tight jumpsuit of invasively crimson shade, with the most liquid voice I've ever heard had apparently watched me since the moment I came in, and I can't believe I stringed all those phrases together in an existing thought in my head. She's drinking in my image without any evident shame nor coyness, her pink irises the stuff of bizarre nightmares, reminiscing of lab rats'.

I am stunned for a moment. Appearance and her gaze aside, everything about her - everything I can't see but can feel - scares me and draws me in, both at the same time, and I cannot tell why. For all the dangers this woman or creature, or both, seems to encompass with her very presence, I still feel distinctly attracted to something about her, something beyond her looks. For some reason, her mere presence feels reassuring. "S-Sorry to drop in uninvited!" I manage, thoroughly flustered by my own divided feelings. "I was curious, and-"

"Not at all, I'm delighted to have a guest!" The grin she carries is manic, unlike anything I've ever seen on a person or in a movie, for that matter. She flips her short bob of lavender hair and it is only then, what with slightly peculiar movement of it, then that I realize it's because she has something akin to horns hidden bellow it. I am swiftly and briefly reminded of _some_ thing from Egyptian mythology but I can't for the life of me remember any specific names. "Speaking of which, how **did** one like you ever manage to come to this world?"

I wonder both what ' _one like_ _you_ ' and ' _this world_ ' mean. She proceeds, answering some of it either by complete coincidence or by some concussion-induced mind-reading magic. "I don't think I've ever seen a grown woman nor man nor anything in between here. It makes it all that much more special to see you here, in my chambers of all places." She pauses, sniffs, and add with a widening smile: "Not to mention that scent."

.. _What_? "S-scent?"

"Oh yes… yes, the fragrance around you is absolutely astounding." She grins as she advances, and I wince. "So much to you, so many layers, such delicious depth of the vilest vices and embarrassing emotions! And it all danced right over into my lap!"

I blush at that, not entirely sure what it means nor what to say as she slithers closer by, circles me, studying me in a rather predatory way. It is only then, when she gets closer, that I realize the top of my head can barely reach her chin, and I myself am not exactly short. I start to wonder if there is more to the words and manners of a predator than I allow myself to think. So as to distract her from my 'scent', I proceed to say the following.

"So, I think I'm dying."

 _Smooth, me_.

She lets out a loud 'ha'. "You don't beat around the bush much, do you?" I feel amused about her reaction, and for the first time smile meekly myself.

"You should know. I mean… you're the one in my head."

"Oh!" The smile momentarily slips away, and she looks a bit confused before she chuckles. "Oh no no, you've got it quite wrong, much to your fortune. I'm not in your head - not yet, anyway," she seems particularly serious about _that_ , "but you most definitely are in **_my_** world."

"… Well. Let's go with that." I accept, not knowing what else to say to such a statement. It's a lucid enough dream sequence as it is, so I give up on logic rather quickly. "What kind of world is it that I'm in?"

"It had been a wonderful one until a bunch of brats decided to make it their permanent playground." She spats, suddenly angry. "They come here daily and ruin everything that used to be good about the place! Oh, but that is a long story and I don't like its ending much."

"What did they do?"

She gives me the look of utter dismay. "… Have you not seen it on your way here?"

"I mean… It's kinda cute." I try, and she groans at it.

"Precisely!" The tone of her voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. "They have turned my home into a kindergarten for all shapes and forms of **disgusting** creatures!"

Realizing I wasn't going to got any satisfactory answer about the surroundings from a woman conjured up in my final dream, I decide to turn my attention to other things. There is no one else around, so if she was going to be my final companion, I might as well make something out of it. It's just a dream, so I throw all my reservations and cautions to the wind.

"Well. Seeing as you're probably the last person I'll ever talk to, want to hang out or something?" I try, acting casual but scared out of my mind of the moment where my mind will give up and fall into eternal sleep. All I need is a distraction from the fact that I'm dying at the moment. A conversation, perhaps. I spy a teapot and a can of coffee, and idly think I could have a final one of each.

Instead of answering, the woman gives my entire being a long, hard stare, and reads nearly the entirety of my emotions. How she does that, I don't know, just as I can't explain how is it that I'm aware of that fact she sees all of me as I am in that moment.

Then again... would it be so bad so have someone see me as I am? _Relief_ is the word that comes to mind.

I have to time to ponder about it however, because the woman she grins most wickedly at me. "Why yes, I have a thing or two in mind."

My eyes widen when she suddenly _grows_ two extra arms. A row of sharp teeth protrude from her mouth, and turns the situation from an odd delight into a nightmare. The irises of her eyes are gone and before me is not a woman but a _monster_. As she advances on me, my instincts finally kick in and scream at me - I might not be as safe as I thought.

"I can't seem to resist - I might not be able to help having a taste of all that _filth_ your body is housing." Her fingers turn into claws, sharper than anything I saw. They gleam before my eyes, and I shiver as she runs them down my face; fingers, like death itself, are caressing my skin. "Nothing to worry about, dear. I'll make sure to do it _slowly_." She growls. I stumble back and hit the wall, and just like that I'm trapped. This whole dream, hallucination, whatever it is, took a nightmarish turn, and as I stare into the whites of her eyes, see her teeth inching closer, feel my knees about to give away, I realize I hate it, hate how even here, even now before I'm about to die, I can't help but- but... cry. Well. At least I have the strength to do it quietly. Still, I hate everything about this. I hate that even now, I don't have the guts to do anything but cry.

There is silence and the monstrous woman before me takes a pause in whatever grisly thing she is about to do.

"... Oh dear. It would seem we have come to a misunderstanding. Not entirely your fault, either."

Blinking so as to be able to see through the blur of my tears, I can tell her eyes are back to normal… at least for now. Her toothy smile turns a tiny bit pitiful and for a second, she almost looks like a human being.

"I don't have any intention of hurting you. Unless of course," she moves closer, her body nearly against mine, and I shiver as she whispers into my ear, " _it is something you'd like me to do_."

Two of her hands take mine, fingers intertwined, and gently press them against the soft, carpeted walls. Her grip is firm, way firmer than one would have thought would be. The other two are very focused on my face. The clawed fingers caress it, almost gently remove stains of tears from my cheeks. She lifts my chin up. As I stare into her eyes, I suddenly realize the full intentions in her mind and as terrified and confused as I still am, I can't help but blush and burn with inexplicable desire, confusion and relief welling up in me and sounding out with a nervous chuckle and a meekly spoken 'wha' because in this moment, I can't come up with any proper words. This too, she notices, and seems delighted about it.

"Oh, I like that _way_ better! Lets us see now..." She inches closer and I can hear her breath in. For a moment, I'm wondering what is she- "Shame? How quaint! You should have no reason to feel such things at your age. Especially in my presence."

Well, if I wasn't confused before...

"H-how… how-?"

"All in due time, my dear." The woman purrs. "If you're dying, as you seem to say – though I doubt death would ever bring you here - you want to make your last moments worth it... _very_ worth it. Your body seems to agree. Do you?"

My body urges me to speak but my throat is dry, My eyes speak more than I can say as they first meet hers, then glance at her mouth. 

"I figured as much." She lazily says right before she leans in. When our lips meet, I'm overwhelmed with abrupt dizziness. The music sound off louder in my ears, and my thoughts are suddenly hazy, and all the heat that was so far contained by the fear is suddenly released into the rest of my body and it's _burning_. Whatever magic is in this place, it's working its way into my very mind and soul, melting the fear away, and making place for everything else that I need.

Her kiss is deep, passionate, slow and easily the best one I've experienced in my life. There is something off about her tongue, or rather the movements of it but I can't place it, not with the entirety of my body and mind on fire, and I don't care much for trying as long it makes me feel as good as it does. Her two free arms advance down my neck and oh- _oh,_ I moan into the kiss without any intent or readiness to do so. Her hands are not lazy in their ministrations – from neck down, she explores, stops at certain places as if testing. teasing. Checking my reactions. I can tell very soon that she knows well, _very_ well what she's doing. By the time her lips separate from mine, I have to fight to catch my breath and I wish I was dressed in something lighter instead of what looked and felt like a battle suit.

She notices the entirety of me being entirely not ready for this, and chuckles. "Oh, how adorable! I'm starting to think you're not used to this kind of treatment." I look away, shame evident on my reddening face. Though she reprimanded me about shame before, she still seems to enjoy it in a certain way. She proceeds to speak, her deep voice making me a few degrees hotter as easily as her touch does, "Don't worry. By the time I'm done with you, you'll have _far_ worse things to be embarrassed about."

I feel like I can't stand anymore but I lack the conviction to voice it out. Still, she seems to take notice that my knees are shaking and that I can't breathe properly. She isn't too merciful about not saying anything of it. "Tell me, what was it that I had done so far that got you so quickly and irreversibly aroused? Was it perhaps..." Her hand moves over my hip, and I gasp softly, "this? Or maybe...," she kisses me again as her hand slithers up to move over the cloth on my hardened nipple, then my neck, then behind my ear – each and every single one of her movements drawing a gasp or a tiny moan. When she lets my lips go, I lick them and realize I'm terribly thirsty.

"My my. Indecisive, aren't you?" She continues and I nearly laugh at the irony of it. The small chuckling sound I made seems to have caught her attention. "Yes? Do tell. You've got my curiosity piqued, and not many can brag with such an accomplishment." She softly demands and patiently waits for me to get my breath back.

I try to look up. Her eyes are danger, and there is something about the danger of this woman that draws me to her. But more importantly her mouth, her grin, and-

" _Speak to me_." I implore, every single ounce of my strength put into making it sound like pleading because I'm far too worn out to say anything more. The woman's eyes widen, and she's momentarily taken aback. Then she laughs, a deep laugh that resonates with the hypnotic music all around us, the sound of which I drown in and she can tell, she can tell because the look she gives me is both wicked and endearing, all at once. She can tell so many things about me so easily, and I grow increasingly excited and terrified about the possible meanings behind this realization.

"Who would've thought that my mere greeting had already set the proverbial gears in motion!" She muses aloud – whether to indulge me or simply because she clearly loves to talk, I can't tell - but I enjoy every moment of it. "Such a precious find you turned out to be. Well if that's how it is, let me tell you one thing." She rasps into my ear:  
" **I'll enjoy every moment of ravishing, destroying and consuming every inkling of shame there is to be found in your feeble body**."

My instincts scream at me both to run and to let go. Impossible, _impossible_.

At this point I'm panting but I don't care as I'm occupied by one single thing - how to get the damn suit off. The woman seems to catch on to my intentions as my still pinned arms helplessly strain in the direction of the suit.

"Impatient? I must admit, I'm getting curious myself. What is it you're ashamed of so."

One of my arms is free and, by some knowledge that must've kicked in unconsciously, I immediately locate a button on my suit and press it. Though it was on point, it does not prepare me for the fact I stand in nothing but my underwear in front of her and I immediately grow self aware. My free arm automatically drifts over the cover the little of what I deem my less than graceful body.

"I'll have none of that." The woman once again locks my arm against the wall. "For a time your entire being is **mine**." And then, with one of those long, sharp claws, she snips the upper garment clean in half and it slides to the floor. The fresh air feels welcome on my breasts but at the same time leaves me devoid of air, and this is where my legs finally give up, and I know I'd slide down to the floor if it weren't for her deft reaction.

"Who would've thought my voice could be such a powerful weapon as well." She chuckles, and to my surprise, picks me up much like one would a princess. "I'll keep it in mind should you ever prove to be troublesome."

The woman carries me to her bed and for a short while, I enjoy the view of her face and the fact I'm leaning on her shoulder. I breath in, possibly unconsciously mimicking her, and feel a sweet, toxic, perfume-like scent I so far neglected to notice. I feel my body touch the soft blanket and pillows. I lay breathlessly and see her position herself above me, on her knees, her four long, terrifying arms dangling lazily beside her. She does nothing as of yet, and it's making me anxious.

"You know," she starts, "I must admit this discovery about my voice makes me rather curious. I wonder," she crawls over me but doesn't touch me, "for how long would you be able to take," I shiver as her face hangs over mine, a strand of her lavender hair brushing my cheek, "my voice alone. Ah, and, of course..." firmly, she once again locks my arms in place, "I won't have you trying to cheat."

Her cheek gently brushes mine. I radiate heat, and I know she can feel it. My heart is prepared to burst out of its chest ,and I know she can _hear_ it. The only touch I get from her is her fingers, wrapped around my wrists in a grip of steel, and the sensation next to my ear – her hair, her cheek, her breath, everything at once.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you came here specifically looking for me." She whispers, slowly, deliberately, her words filling me with warmth I didn't know my body can take. "You seem to respond most _wonderfully_ to every and any thing I do. Still, I didn't get an answer to one of the previous inquires – the situation gave little opportunity for you to do so." Then there is that danger, that edge to her voice that literally makes me gasp as she says: "If I were to only cause harm with my touch, _would you still like to be touched_?"

 **Fuck**.

The heat beyond the rim of my panties is unbearable and I swear if she says another word-

"You should know that I will allow no such crude words to be spoken in my abode. Seems like you lack a little discipline." I feel my own peak coming even before she does it but with those words, her claws dig into my ribs and scrape across my skin. I scream not nearly so much in pain as in pleasure, for the markings she leaves me with do not draw blood but they are _melting_ my mind. The music spins my vision further and another scream of satisfaction leaves my lips as I feel that same, grateful pain.

It's but a beginning and my body craves more. I open my eyes and meet her own, white, predatory and dangerous.

"Please..." I manage, not knowing what I'm pleading for. For her to stop? To continue? To hurt me or not? To touch me? To speak? Spinning, spinning. The music is menacing. The smells in the room are suffocating but it's all I'm breathing in. It's a hypnotic sort of dance, the likes of I haven't experienced before. Almost like a drug but so much more, so much better. 

"My oh my, what a beautiful display." She lazily comments. "Though I must admit, I would rather cherish a few extra... details, on you skin." My eyes clenched shut, I never notice her leaning in, and when sharp teeth dig into my neck, my moaning is out of control and I can not tell what is it that's audible or not. Everything is hot and hazy, her teeth and claws seem everywhere, her voice saying things that are incoherent but nevertheless pleasing to each and every part of my body. My ribs are begging for more of her sharp hands, my lips search for her serpentine tongue and my hips trash against her body, and then she raises a knee between my legs and oh, _yes-_ The peaks come in waves and waves, I am saying words but I don't know what they are, she laughs and laughs coyly at the complete disappearance of any self-control I had left , and the music plays and spins my mind around. I open my eyes but can hardly see. Everything is menace, everything is danger, and I might die every second but if I do, it will be in pure, unadulterated bliss of body and mind.

Time has no meaning here, or at least so I conclude. As far as I'm concerned, weeks could have passed before the feeling of my body comes back to me, drained, twitching against the leg of this monstrous woman, lungs aching and my mind slowly clearing up. When I come to, she is still there above me, with a look unusual and beastly. There is something she is getting from this entire ordeal but what it is, I can not say. I don't care. I don't mind.

"Thank you." I hear myself say, and hear her laugh.

"Oh, by all means, the pleasure was mine." Well that was just not true and she probably knew it. I laugh, believing it must be a joke.

"If you insist, my lady." The word accidentally escapes my lips, and I look at her a bit concerned, wondering how she'll take it. She seems adequately flattered by my choice of words.

"You learn fast." She says smoothly. "I'm starting to like you."

Finally, she stands up, and I follow suit but end up sitting down on the bed just as fast, still recovering. She looks very non-phased by all that took place and the rational part of my minds starts waking up with questions. But I have no time to ask them, for she very abruptly asks, with a jolly smile on her face:

"Are you ready to die yet?"

"Oh." The idea of death seems still just as close... but not unavoidable. "... No, I don't think so."

"Good, because you won't."

I must look unconvinced because she suddenly starts to explain, any and all sign of flirtatious behavior disappearing. "Those ghastly children who come here all the time each carry a knick-knack of some sort that sends them back. Certainly, you have one as well."

"Uh..." I only then realize.

Around my left wrist, a faded, braided bracelet, the only thing left of my original attire. It has been a long time since I first put it on my hand but I can't remember the last time I took it of. Or ever, for that matter. The wounds that surrounded the existence of that bracelet were still healing yet the fond memories it carried were stronger.

I look up at her. I have a feeling like it's time for me to leave, and I realize I have a very hard time doing so. The woman says nothing else, a smug look on her face. Now or never. Just speak up, I tell myself.

"Can… can I come and see you… again, sometimes?" It's the most I've ever dared to ask of someone in years.

There is something going on in her head as she replies but whatever it is, it will remain a mystery to me.

"Like I said, the pleasure was all mine, dear." She grins wickedly. "You can come on over whenever you desire."

Not wanting to let any tears show up again, I reply quickly, intent on leaving.

"Thank you. Uh. W-well then."

"Oh? Not even a kiss goodbye? Pity, and here I thought you cared." The woman clearly teases, yet I get flustered about it and force myself to take a step to her and plant a quick peck on her lips. She laughs at my eagerness to please, and I wonder what is it about her that makes me want to please her so.

"Off you go, then."

Again, on instinct, I grab my bracelet, as if knowing it was the one thing I needed to do. Colours of yellow surround me as I hear her final greeting before I disappear.

" _I'll be waiting for you._ _"_

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I wake up.

No, wait, I don't.

I was never asleep to begin with.

I find myself there in my house where I last remember, in my normal clothes. I can still see tear drops on the floor.

... It couldn't have been.

... I have to make sure... How can I-

Desperately, I tug at my shirt and gasp.

Scratches. Long, innumerable, red slashes grace the pale skin of my stomach and sides. I look in the mirror. Bite marks, colours of purple and blue, like a tattoo pattern, on my neck, lowering down over my breasts and belly.

I don't know how.

I don't know why.

I don't know _what_.

I do know I'll be coming back to her.


	2. One of the many Drinks

Weeks pass. 

For reasons I have difficulty explaining to myself for the longest time, I don’t use the bracelet to go back but the reason nests in over the course of time. On one hand, trying to go back costs me nothing, that much I realize. On the other, should I discover it was a one-time thing, it would cost me everything. Everything the experience stood for, everything it brought, and everything it... changed. 

The memory of the strange woman has ever since kept me in high spirits. Well... _highe_ _r_ spirits. I can’t really explain how or why. It feels a bit like taking medication, with an important difference of meeting her being effective immediately rather than over a course of several long weeks. There is a certainty to my step I haven’t experienced in a while. My voice sounds off more often. My thoughts go back to her whenever I realize it. Every time I’m tempted to go back. Every time, dread fills me by just imagining it doesn’t work. 

It is only after a particularly bad day, when I cannot take life anymore for what it is, when I stumble out of the bed and into the darkness of the night, fighting to keep my breath intact, that I reach for the faded bracelet on my wrist. For a moment I think I’ll need to concentrate, or close my eyes. But whatever it is that pulls me into that other world understands me and, moreover, invites me to come. I realize my time to visit the place has been long overdue when I find myself surrounded yet again by sandy shores, colourful trees and the kind of air I enjoy filling my lungs with. It is not the sight of the woman alone that consoles me and helps me, I suddenly realize – it is something about this place. Something that cannot be seen, just like with her. 

Something that calls me to find it. 

I hardly step down from the platform, when I get somewhat of a welcoming committee. Some creatures, who had so far been hanging out close by, have squeaked, delighted by my visit, and inched closer, checking me out with particular interest. I don’t necessarily fear them but their looks are something to get used to. Their approach is, in contrast to my guarded demeanour, very friendly. I realize they are the same three I have seen the first time I visited. 

“Oh my gosh!” One of them, looking very much like a living puddle with eyes, exclaims in a childlike wonder. “You are so pretty!” 

While I can never take those words seriously, I can’t deny that, in this world at least, I am actually satisfied with how I look. For a change, I accept the compliment graciously and with a grin. “Thank you so much!” I pause as my eyes trail over them. Might as well ask. “Well... Say, could you help me? I don’t know where this place is.” 

“This is Endless Island!” One of them says, and stops there. I glance around – having not noticed it was an island last time, I kind of dumbly look for any giveaway but as expected, I find none. It must be a huge place. Well. At least I got a name for it. 

“Are you another one of Twelve’s friends?” The one with rabbit ears asks. I am confused. 

“’Twelve?’ Who is Twelve?” 

“Twelve is our hero!” She chirps. “She, and Todd and Esther come here all the time!” 

... I wonder idly who the three are and if I’ll ever seem them here. They would surely be a lot of help in answering some of my questions. 

“I am Pretty Please, this is Tater Tot, and this is Beth!” 

“I can introduce myself, you know!” 

The trio quarrels for a bit, giving me ample time to figure out those were all, indeed, their names. 

“And what’s your name?” The one named Beth finally asks. 

“For Pete’s sake Beth, can’t you see it says right there on her chest!” 

“It’s not as big as Twelve’s but it’s there, alright!” 

I blink, confused, and look down. Etched in small letters, just like it would be back home, is the name of the popular brand. It catches me completely by surprise, because nothing here seems like it came from, or was made in image of the world I grew up in. I wonder _why_. 

“Oh.” I voice out. The little creatures giggle. 

“Nice to meet you, Puma!” 

I feel silly in a way that feels very nostalgic, and go with it. 

“Puma is the name! It’s nice to meet you, too.” 

Pretty Please beams at me. “Hey, want to hang out? We were just going to head to the shore!” 

“We’re collecting shells!” Tater Tot informs. 

“We’re going to make each other friendship bracelets!” 

Oh boy. I can tell that what I'm feeling is something nice but also it’s something long lost. It makes me sad. It makes me smile.

“You know what. Sure.” 

“Yay! Come along, Puma!” 

I allow myself to be led away by three little creatures. Just moment away from where I spawned onto Endless Island, the land meets a wide sea I neglected to study before. Being here makes me only then notice the sky and I gasp at the vicinity of planets hanging up there. They are enormous. It’s kind of scary. I look back to the crystal-clear sea and see the trio splashing about in the shallows. They carry pots, vases and paper bags, nothing I would ever consider taking for shell-collecting but it’s nothing unusual in this place, I suppose. 

“Look, Puma! There’s tons, enough for everyone!” 

This is... relaxing. 

The kids, I suppose one could call them, are pretty alright. Loud and eccentric, with some odd tendencies but sweet and kind. They help me with identifying various shells and choosing the colour scheme for my bracelet, and I return the favour by doing the same. They seem downright gleeful about the fact I’m getting into it. 

To be honest, I surprise myself with how much of a good time I’m having. 

I don’t know how long is it before we sit down on the shore, four bracelets made clumsily but with care, decorating our wrists. I study mine. Next to the bracelet of weathered leather, shells gleam under the sun like a liquid rainbow, far prettier than most jewelry I have seen. 

“Where did you get this one, Puma?” Tater Tot asks me, noticing the way I’m studying both trinkets. My smile kind of hurts but something tells me she doesn’t notice the pain behind it. 

“Funny you should ask, Tater Tot. You see, this is _also_ a friendship bracelet!” I exclaim and, as I expected, their eyes shine with newfound joy and curiosity. “It is very old, however. I was only nine years old when we made them.” 

“’We?’” 

“Who did you make the bracelets for?” 

“Was it... a _boy_?” Beth whispers shyly, and I laugh. 

“No, no, it wasn’t like _that -_ it was between me and a group of friends. In school, they taught us that these are totems we are supposed to put hopes and dreams in, and-“ 

“Oh! Twelve, Todd and Esther showed us ‘school!’” 

“It was awesome!” 

“I loved to read!” 

“—uh, and, well, we decided to take that opportunity to make friendship bracelets, and exchange them with each other!” The memory rushes through my mind like a warm summers’ wind, gone just as fast. I haven’t thought about it so vividly in years. “It was a nice day.” 

“It sure sounds so! We make each other friendship bracelets all the time!” 

“Oh.” Well, that’s one way to go about it. I’m confused, however. “But then, why aren’t you wearing any?” 

“Our arms get heavy after a while.” Pretty Please apologetically explains. “That’s why we decided to hang them all upon a tree!” 

Well. That’s a sweet sentiment. 

“You can hang yours with us as well.” Tater Tot offers.

Words can’t describe how outright nice I consider their offer but I firmly decide not to cry today. “I would love that.” I finally say with a smile. 

The tree they are hanging their bracelets on is nothing special. It’s just a tree, close to the coast, not even alone but one of the many that surrounds it. But their personal décor has made it one of the prettiest things around. 

Tator Tot takes all of our bracelets and hangs them about. The tree is glistening from all the seashells and, I soon notice, various other pieces they made their bracelets with. Pieces of wood, colorful rocks, candy, even just junk – but they are all gorgeous to me. 

“Thank you, guys. You made me feel really welcome here.” 

“Anytime!” Tater Tot, whom I have thus far singled out as somewhat of a leader of the small group, grins. “Just wait until you meet Twelve, Todd and Esther! I’m sure they’d love to hang out!” 

I idly wonder if that would really be the case. “Perhaps one day. Thanks again.” 

I wave my goodbyes at them as I turn my back to the shore and step towards the thick of the jungle, ready to get lost in it again. As I stand there, I wonder... do I go to her? 

Initially, I was going to. Initially, she was the single charm of the place. But it was only after this completely... _exact_ opposite experience from the last time, that I realize there are layers to this world. As many layers as that woman seemed to have seen in me. As aloof as I was about the world the last time, I’m suddenly curious. I don’t much care about _how_ it came to be – Hell, I can’t say for certain I know how humanity came to be. No, what I want to know is just _why._ Why is it here? Why is it calling to me? Why haven’t I gotten here before? What is it I’m supposed to find? What is-- 

**What is that in the bush?**

Again, very few things aside from the woman scared me on this island... so far. But when I notice two round, bulging eyes staring at me from a nearby bush, eyes that disappear the moment I notice them, they surprise me enough to give me temporary shivers. My eyes squint. I could either go on my merry way, or confront whoever – or whatever – that is. 

Armed with an uncharacteristic flourish of bravery, I call out. 

“I saw you there!” I try not to sound hostile. “You can come out! I’m not, like... uh, mean, or anything.” 

A moment after the bushes rustle and _good god what_. 

It has legs of a human, a pasty sort of skin on its face and it wears a tie. The rest is resembling a giant, purple bouncing ball. If it weren’t for those few specifically human features, I’m sure it would look more... flattering. 

Still, the little dude seems kind of cute in its own, round, weirdo way. 

“Uhm.” The voice reminds me of frogs. “Ma’am wishes to see you.” 

“... Excuse me, who?” 

“Ma’am. Sh-she said you’d know.” 

Oh! Well. How... unexpected. Not unwelcome. My face reddens with gleeful anticipation. 

“Sh-she said she wanted to see me?” I stutter. He nods again, squints at me, then at the sign on my chest. 

“... Puma?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. And you are?” 

He squints even further. “My name is Big Deal.” 

I swear, I’m going to find out what’s with all these weird names. 

“Nice to meet you, Big Deal. So, uh... lead the way?” 

He smiles, any sign of concern gone. On our way – we take the path directly through shrubbery but it’s quicker, apparently – he tells me of ‘ma’am’. Nothing ill. The way he talks about how beautiful, powerful and kind she is only _sort of_ clashes with my idea of the woman. Beautiful, well. To me, there were many kinds of beauty, and she certainly possessed some of the uniqueness. Powerful, I dare not find out how much. As for kind, well. Time will tell. 

We finally arrive. This time, I’m helped in by Big Deal, who apparently prefers flying in rather than being sucked inside. He helps carrying me until the path is not steep, and then I walk the rest of the way and jump down from the pipe into the room of pink that I feared so much was but a dream. 

“I brought her to you, ma’am!” Big Deal announces. I look around and see her lounging on the couch, book in hand. I meet her eyes. Hers, as always, show nothing. Mine show everything. 

“Ah, splendid, you found our new friend! Nicely done, Big Deal.” 

“She didn’t resist much, ma’am.” 

“As I told you she wouldn’t. Now run off if you would, Big Deal! Grown-ups have to talk alone for a while.” 

“Oh, uhh, aye, aye, ma’am!” He happily obliges, even though he seems over-the-moon about the fact he got to see her again. He flies off, and we remain alone. 

“Once you get used to him, you’ll find it that he can indeed touch a few of your heartstrings. Provided you have any.” She says with a roll of eyes, and I can’t help but chuckle. 

“Not like there was any problem with him.” I notice. “He seems real nice.” 

“Ah, yes, everybody and everything on this island seem _nice._ ” She notices with disdain. “It’s exactly what caused me all the trouble in the first place.” 

“... The niceness did?” 

“The overabundance of childlike politeness!" She angrily declares.

“Well, that’s not so bad. I’d have that over a patronizing grown-up any day of the week.” 

The woman is quiet for a moment. Then she grins her characteristic grin. “You have gotten chattier since the last time we met.” 

“Ah.” I blush, irresistibly, because she’s the cause of my chattiness, as it were. “Well. I guess. Just, like. A little bit.” I ramble. 

“Come now, no need to be shy! We have gone beyond all of the _pleasantries_ the first time we met.” She teases, and I look away with meek smile. “I so desperately craved some maturity in life, so please...” she gestures towards the single couch in her home, “... be my guest.” 

_I guess she_ **_is_ ** _kind when she_ **_wants_ ** _to be_ , I think to myself several minutes later as we are both sitting there, some of the softest cushions I ever felt in my lap, and with a fresh brew of coffee in our hands. It tastes divinely bitter, and it melts my insides into a gooey feeling of joy. We’re chatting as if we have known each other for years. Or rather, she really enjoys speaking. 

Not that I mind. 

I tell her about my life but to be honest, I’m not willing to share much. I mostly stick to some brighter younger topics, the overachieving days in middle school and the time my parents were still happily married. She, in turn, shares some of her own stories but I can tell that, much like me, she is keeping the majority of things to herself. I just can’t tell what kind of things. I listen to her rave on about how bored she was, even though she says it in a way as if it wasn’t a big deal... pun not intended. The actual Big Deal, as it turns out, has kept her decent company, she informs me with some reserve but apparently, there were no grown-ups of her own scope to be found anywhere on the Island. Immediately, the thought crosses my mind. 

“Can’t you visit my world?” I ask, somewhat hopeful. “Plenty of adults there who I’m sure would be more than amazed to see and meet you.” 

She stares at me as if I’ve just grown another head, and looks almost displeased when she responds. 

“Rubbish.” I’m not sure what she’s referring to, and I don’t get the chance to ask as she continues. “A world of possibilities seems just a door away.” 

“Oh.” I nudge the rims of my cup, noticing she didn’t actually answer but perhaps, maybe she has a reason not to. Question are, once again, multiplying in my head, and I plan on getting some answers this time. Speaking of which... “So... How did you know where to find me?” 

Her grin comes back. She looks especially proud, flipping her hair as she answers with a certain dose of playful sarcasm. “Not entirely sure if you noticed but I have somewhat of a nose for finding certain things.” 

“I noticed.” I briefly inform, sipping my coffee in an attempt to not seem supremely uncomfortable. 

“I sensed you the moment you landed here. Figured you wouldn’t go far, and assumed you’d have difficulty finding the place again.” She squints curiously. “Come to think of it, it took him a while.” 

“Oh.” I realize Big Deal must’ve seen me while I was making bracelets with Tater, Pretty and Beth, and had the politeness so as to not interrupt me until I was alone. I feel kind of bad for him, sneaking about and waiting for his chance to talk to me, instead of just approaching me. “Yeah, I was in the middle of something.” 

“Admittedly, it’s hard not to be around here, as all proof would have shown.” 

...What a strange thing to say. And the way she did, it was almost... bitter. I think about it for a few moments. 

“... Are you telling me you are bored here?” I ask incredulously. With all this island offers, how could one possibly get bored?

“To death and back!” She exclaims. “Well, perhaps I am over exaggerating a smidgen but the point stands – someone like me has few fun things to do in a _kindergarten_.” 

“Kindergartens can be fun.” I tease, and she scoffs.

“Maybe for a minute.”

“Mm.” I think to all the things I have not yet discovered about the nature of this place. “Could I, like... ask you a few things about-” 

“As long as you stop using that word so as to give emphasis to your _other_ words, you can ask anything you wish.” I stare at her, oblivious. She deadpans. “’Like’. It is not nice to hear, nor a way for a grown person to express themselves.” 

“Uh. I, um... OK?” I’m mostly surprised by the fact it bothers her at all. When I start laughing at it, she looks a bit caught off guard, and irritably asks:

“What’s so funny?” 

“It’s just hard to believe you’re bothered by something so trivial.” I admit through a smile. 

“We all have our pet peeves. I found more than a dozen of yours in a single meeting.” 

I look flustered by this statement, and it brings her manic grin back. 

“How are _you_ an adult?” She teases back, and I can’t help but laugh even as she continues. “Your mannerisms reflect an amount of naïveté you were supposed to have long since outgrown.” 

“Not sure myself sometimes.” I shrug. “Life just didn’t treat me with a smooth transition, I suppose.” 

“Mmm? How so?” 

It’s hard to say whether she’s genuinely invested into the conversation or not. Still. I do my best to answer. 

“Uhh...” I think about what to say. I can tell she has an inkling of an assumption as to what kind of life I led. “... Just had one too many problems with... opening up. Getting along. Stuff like that. Anything that makes one a functioning person, I suppose.” 

This time, she drinks in my words, and I can tell. The room gets hotter. I shake my head. “Stop that.” I demand. She can tell what I’m talking about but that doesn’t stop her from cackling. 

“Stop what?” She play innocent. For a moment, it’s amusing me. 

“This... heat, it’s just...” I tug at my collar. “It’s suffocating.” 

“Whatever it is you feel, it's all you."

Well. “Don’t you think it's obvious the same might go for you? This only happens when you’re around.” 

I have to admit I’m kind of proud of the fact I managed to make her seem surprised by my statement. She squints at me again, her irises completely disappearing when she does. I’ve started to slowly realize this is more of a sign of intrigue rather than danger... though I’m sure it could be of both, given an appropriate situation should arise. 

“You’re quite an insightful little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Thanks, I guess." I accept it. "I’ve spent way too much time being quiet not to be." Still... I feel kind of happy about how she made it sound like a compliment. 

“An observer, you say? Any observations you’d like to share then? I’d _love_ to hear what you gathered so far.”

… I can’t tell if she’s teasing me or not. 

… She probably is. 

“I’d-- I’m not--” I’m blushing again. She laughs. I love the sound. It inspires an answer. “You find amusement in other people’s shortcomings, and well, I’m not sure why.” 

“Oh, don’t take it so personally, I find amusement all kinds of terrible things!” 

This genuinely makes me laugh for a solid minute. 

“Still!” I manage through the tears. “A reason would be nice.” 

“Hmm.” She actually seems to ponder for a moment as she sips the last of the coffee. Her eyes stare directly into mine, and for the first time, I read a feeling of her own in them. It is... I can’t define it but it’s unsettling. She turns her gaze away. “That **is** an interesting question we should put aside for some other time. I promise to think about it. In the meantime-” she puts her cup down, and gives me a lazy sort of look, “what did you have in mind today? I’ve waited for days and days only for _you_ to drop by.” 

Oh boy. I blush, not mildly like I did so far but to the very roots of my hair, and I can tell it was her intention. The fact her tone was clearly suggestive doesn’t help in concealing it. But I don’t want to go down that path... not right now. 

“W-well, actually,” I start off, slowly, “I was thinking about the Island and how, uh, I haven’t seen much of it.” 

“Ooh. Curious?” 

I raise my eyes, and read mischief in hers. 

“I... even more so, now.” I admit, and she chuckles. 

“Well, well, in that case, I have a confession to make!” She stands up as she announces with a flourish. “There are in fact still a few places – _hidden_ , mind you,” she hisses threateningly, “I occasionally visit without any interference from those _ghastly_ children.” 

“There are?” I am, in fact, surprised. Assuming she despises anything childlike as much as she proclaims, having a place where she can relax, in a place like this, seems downright impossible. 

“Indeed, though I have to admit,” she moves closer to me, and with it, my body temperature rises helplessly. _Focus_. “It would be much more fun with some company." 

“... Count me in.” I pause as she offers me her hand. I accept it, and she pulls me to my feet. The gesture etches itself into my memory so strongly, it perplexes me. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

When she realizes how slow I’ll be next to her and offers me a ‘ride’, the least of all thing do I expect her to transform into something more beastly than anything I’ve seen before, and instructs me to get on. I mean, sure, I’ve seen her extra arms, her needle point teeth, and her soulless eyes. But this is... something else. It is plainly clear she enjoys my quiet terror.

Out of this fear, I initially mean to refuse but something in her tone makes it very clear this was not a kind offer of any sort – it was a _command_. I climb her back in somewhat terrified silence. 

Still, it’s a lot more convenient way to travel, so I get used to it pretty quickly as long as I don’t stare too hard at her deformed body. 

We move through the trees with surprising swiftness, and for a little while I struggle to keep balance on her back. She has little to no regard for what I’m doing as long as I’m still in one piece but doesn’t seem take any precautions to make sure I stay in one. All I can do is duck my head, hold on for dear life, and observe the fleeting world besides us. 

Not much later but far further from the beach I originally spawned on, we come to the very edge of a canyon topped with fluffy grass. I blink Into the brightness of the sky. Taking into the account it seems practically endless, I wonder how come there is no water pouring in from the sea. Just how big is this island? How wide? As I look down, deep, deep down, all I see is a trickle of a thin blue stream. A river, perhaps.

I marvel at the depth and the distances I can barely see. Far across, yellow radiates from the flora on ground, clashing amazingly against the cerulean sky. 

“Welcome, to the loneliest place on this blasted island!” The woman says this with glee. 

“You come here to be alone?” I find it kind of sweet. But she laughs harder than ever. 

“Goodness no, I come for these!” She rips out two... champagne glasses?... from a nearby tree. They are filled to the brim with something pink. It isn’t champagne. It isn’t anything we have back in my world, I think. 

But it’s booze alright. 

“Our journey is not over yet.” She informs me – I briefly wonder where do we go from what looks like the very edge of the world. “But we might as well relax while we’re here.” 

Inexplicably, there are cheap plastic chairs, tables and a broken-down sound system nearby. We occupy the chairs, lifting our legs up. I can tell be how acquainted she is with the spot she sat here quite a few times before. 

“Cheers?” I offer with a smile, and she graciously accepts it. 

“To the doom and demise of those nefarious brats!” 

Well. “Err... how about, to the prosperity of adulthood?” 

“... I suppose it’ll do. Drink up!” 

A clink echoes wonderfully over the canyon, and as we both take a generous gulp, she is overcome with laughter. For a moment, Istare at her. 

“Are you-” 

“Nothing to worry about, pretty face! You’ll get used to it.” 

_...To what, exactly?_

“I have a name, you know.” 

“Ah yes, an interesting one at that.” She eyes the word on my suit, and I frown internally. Perhaps she was just going along with it. Perhaps I should, too. “Still,” she continues, “I see no reason not to call you ‘pretty face.’” 

Was I in the real world, all sorts of reasons would come to mind, common human decency being close to the top. Here, I couldn’t care less about it. Here, from her, it’s a compliment. 

I realize suddenly she took me out here to show me the place, and I haven’t said a word of it. “I- I honestly appreciate it... like- I mean-” I catch myself using the word, “what I meant to say it, I’m glad you showed me this place. The drinks are an unexpectedly nice touch.” 

“I’d say the view is a nice touch. As for these,” she swirls a bit of drink in her glass, “it’s a darn good reason to come here.” 

She goes on, telling me how it is a fairly dead place without her around, and as she speaks I wonder why is there still that sense of danger around her, even now, in such a relaxed situation. Not that there is any use in trying. She is a mystery.vHer being here, her contrasting literally everything there is. Her and her little booze tree. 

... _Why._

“... Why **is** there a booze tree here?” 

“The what?” She asks with a disbelieving cackle, amused by the name I assigned to the strange plant. But I keep my flow of thoughts coming. 

“This world, it... it’s not for me.” I suddenly realize. “I don’t think I'm really... _truly,_ supposed to be here. It’s not for you either. It’s clearly something that indulges these kids you keep mentioning. As well as all the other childlike, uh, things that live here.” 

Some of the pieces fall into place. Others inch closer. The picture is getting clearer. Not much but, baby steps. I remember the shells on the beach, glistening. I remember us finding just the right colours and shapes. I remember how perfect it all was. 

And then there is _this,_ I think to myself as I drink. 

“So why is there this tree here?” 

“Oh, well that’s easy! It is one of the few remnants from the time I ruled over this island with an iron fist!” 

I freeze and slowly look over to her. Her face is no different than before, yet suddenly I find it tense to ask further. So I let her speak. 

“Back when I did, it was a paradise for the likes of us!” She clenches her teeth. “I may have gotten my strength and powers back but as long as that _disgusting_ _child_ is here all the time, what is there possibly to do about any of it? She and her little army of freaks defeated me once and chances are, they’ll do it again.” She sips on her drink, practically sulking. 

I say literally nothing, because I’m trying to put the pieces together... and she seems to be much more liberal with information when not asked. I take another gulp, thinking it might be the drink that loosened her tongue. 

The world blinks before my eyes, and I blink back. 

“W-what?” 

“Hmm? What is it now?” 

“My eyes, they...” The world blinks again and for a moment, everything is different. I can’t see much of it but I catch glimpses of... a different place. “There is... a room, here, I think? Or it used to be, I—I don’t--” 

“Ah. You can’t hold your liquor very well, can you now?” 

To be honest, given my experiences, that kind of stings. 

“Huh?” 

“Not to worry. Finish your glass, I’ll be there in no time.” With those words, she gets up and starts towards the tree. I don’t really know what she means but I do as I’m told, and finish the sweet, fuzzy drink. 

Almost instantly, my surrounding transform – or am I transported? - into a wide, wide space. The floor is colourful, the wall non-existent and there are lights and lights and lights, dancing everywhere, gleaming against the colourful floor, making patterns all around. I realize there are pillars around me. I grow momentarily dizzy, and stumble towards the pillars of purple and light. It is only when I feel them under my hands that I get some orientation around the room and realize what it is. The Pillars are no pillars, they are trees. The surroundings are the same, but I have failed to recognize them. The trees are younger, the lights are small orbs floating above, much like in the woman’s abode, and the old, moss-overgrown chair aren’t there anymore. In their place, oddly enough, there are cosy, fancy leather couches and sofa, just sitting there on the newly set, large tiles of silver. 

There is a jukebox that glistens more intensely than the rest of the surroundings and I can faintly hear [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8PYEzQJRw8) starting to come alive from within it, distorted at first, then clear. It is very unlike anything I’ve heard but then again, my tastes aren’t exactly broad. 

I look around. The booze tree is still there alright but it has transformed from a willow into something much more... alive. Its leaves are sparkling under the light, the glasses hanging from it are innumerable and vary in colour and size, and it generally seems younger. 

This small new world-within-a-world makes my head swim lightly but it feels oddly comfy. 

I treat myself to another glass and take a walk about the space, the soles of my suit making a clicking sound against the silver floor. I touch one of the orbs and for a moment, it bounces playfully. 

“Ah! We are finally here!” 

I turn around and see the woman, apparently spawned from thin air, coming up to me, grinning as is her tendency. “Now that we’re appropriately intoxicated, we’ll be truly out of sight and mind of any potential nuisances!” 

The statement reminds of a night out from years ago, and I start laughing. “Is that what this space is?” 

“Do you not have these? Shame." 

“Oh, we do.” I glance around. “This is just... different.” 

“I bet it is.” There is more to her words but she doesn't give me the chance to wonder about it. “Now this is the place to wrench our hearts dry!” 

“... What do you mean?” 

“What I mean is,” she turns to me, and the look in her eyes freezes me on the spot, “you’ve been quite evasive with providing any substantial information about yourself.” Her hand caresses my cheek. Just like before, the heat comes, sudden, unbearable and suffocating. I close my eyes in an attempt to focus but her voice makes it difficult. “Here and now, is the good place and time to put an end to that.” 

I tug at my collar. “Quit it.” 

“Now then, you couldn’t have been naïve enough to believe I brought you here for no ulterior motive?” 

A smile breaks open on my face. 

“I didn’t for a moment think that I could possibly understand your motives.” 

She laughs. The heat rises, enveloping me like a bath, and all of a sudden it might as well be, because we are floating, carelessly, safe, distant from anything and anyone else. With my eyes still closed, I feel her hands on my shoulders. I breath in. Warm air – or water? - fills my lungs but it doesn’t make it hard nor painful. Am I even breathing? Suddenly, it’s difficult to say. I’m nowhere. I’m everywhere. 

“Perhaps for the best. All shall be known and named in due time, whatever our motives might be.” 

I don’t think much of it but my mind makes a connection between two words that left her lips, and despite the heat, the haziness of it all, and despite not understanding what exactly is taking place, I manage to ask her. 

“What is your name?” 

Her hands don’t stop as they rise to my face but I can tell – even without seeing, I can tell – that something had changed in her expression, and shifted in her demeanour. Her fingertips trace across my cheeks. The heat becomes one with me. Her breath feels almost cold on my lips. 

“You’ll find out at the End.” 

Unlike the last time, when her kiss made everything so confusing, this time it seems to clear my mind. Last time, I was burning with it but now the heat is different. My body seems to welcome it. As cheesy as it sounds, even my very soul seems to revel in it. 

Whether I did it consciously or not, I can’t recall – but my hands move and embrace her, pulling her further into my kiss. She smiles into it. I feel her sharpened teeth nibbling at my lip. My fingers curl on her back. More of her arms spawn and envelop me. I can’t breathe and it’s fine. 

What happens next is a blur. It doesn’t anymore feel like there is a physical world. I try opening my eyes and I can’t, yet I see colours, undefined, numerous, beautiful. There is a prickly, comfortable, arousing feeling gently coursing through my body. I swim and float, don’t know where nor how, and it all seems... right. My voice escapes me in a series of soft, breathless gasps. 

Then her voice echoes, into my ear and distant, all at the same time. It’s hard to explain, and weird to experience. 

“Such a strange soul. Such sorrow, fear, guilt. What was it that put so much into it?” 

The colours shift rapidly and begin taking shape. Much to my horror, the shapes morph into a scene that is painfully familiar. I don’t want to look. 

It is only as I turn my head away that I start feeling... well, something. It feels much like her hand and her body but it is difficult to say. Her hands, claws out, grab at my face and force my head back. There is no resisting that grip and no resisting her command. 

What she hisses out next, she does with clear glee. Why, I can’t tell. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand. 

“ **Drink up**.” 

And as I let go of control, I do just that – I absorb the view because even though it scares me, it is mine, and I do so easily, and suddenly I’m not just looking at the scene, I’m in it.

I hear only [the echoes](https://youtu.be/Ar1iQGAyWNM?t=49) of the present as the memories of the past overwhelm me.

 _We were kids._ _Little_ _kids with big eyes and bigger dreams._

_It was a sunny day when we made totems. I remember the sound of clock striking at noon. I remember Him, and I remember Her._

I fight against acquiring too much information, because I don’t want to woman to hold it. I’m not sure it can be done. 

_We showed off our totems to each other. Mine, of shiny leather strips, orange and brown and glistening as if it were gold itself. His, plastic, shiny and intertwined with pinks and blues. Hers, a noisy little string of seashells._

_…_ so very unlike the one I made on the shore of Endless Island. I realize I had forgotten what Hers looked like. It wasn’t shiny nor colorful. It was simple, the colour of a beach on a cloudy day. 

_There is a moment in this scene that I forgot. We are all smiling. He says, ‘we are going to be friends, forever’._

The words make my eyes tear and my heart thump. 

The scene ripples and again, I’m in a pool of nothing and everything again, feeling the woman’s body over mine. The tears in my eyes are a mix, of emotions, of physical sensations, of happiness and bitterness. It’s comfortable and it hurts. 

“ **I’m afraid we are not done yet**.” I hear the voice in my ear, irresistible, and the colours before my closed eyelids shift again, again morphing into something else on command. I don’t want it but clearly, something in me needs it. I feel something on my lips, and I swallow, feel more of the taste of drink on my tongue, the stray drops tickling me as they descend down my chin. It warms me further. The colours take shape. I try to recoil but she holds me firmly in place. I can’t look away, nor conceal my sight nor close my eyes. 

_It was late Summer when She disappeared._

_The police were looking all over the little town._

I remember now. 

_Me and Him could but utter a few words when our parents asked. The police terrified us. We were so young. The shock was too strong._

I remember now. 

_My left palm had ached all the time, pressed firmly into a fist. Later that evening, I would discover it was completely red with dried blood but I didn’t know how nor why. Back then, it didn’t matter. She was gone._

I don’t want to see anything anymore. 

I try to ask her to stop. I hear her deep laughter in the distance. I try again. The words barely take shape in my head when the colours disappear, and I’m back in the pool. I am breathing deeply. My body is thoroughly worn out but grateful. Pleasure seeps through it in gently waves. I breathe. I finally breathe. 

“I guess we both got what we came for.” She hisses into my ear, and for what feels like the first time in a days and days, I open my eyes. 

The cerulean sky of Endless greets me. I sit up. The abandoned chairs are scattered around, and green grass is soft beneath me. The woman is nowhere to be seen. 

I get up. I am drenched in body fluids, and the drink is sticky on my face. I am dizzy and disoriented yet strangely relaxed. I raise my wrist to the sky. The Endless sends me off in a flash of yellow. 

When the cold air of my backyard washes over me, I feel the full burden of everything I just remembered hit me. I shuffle back into the house and into bed, shivering, and have dreams, terrifying, beautiful dreams I had hoped I’d never dream, of past and the truth. I toss and turn well into the night. 

The woman is in every scene. 

Her laughter haunts me 

Her eyes swallow me. 

Her grin is mocking. 

I awake rested, and with no memory of the truth that haunts me.


	3. One Monster

I spend the day alone in my house. First, it’s just one. Quietly, almost unnoticeably, it stretches into two, three days without sunlight of either of the worlds. I can tell it doesn’t do me any good but there is so much to think about. There is so much _not_ to think about. It’s easier to stay put in the shadows of my house, pretending not to exist for a few days. 

When my telephone rings on the fourth day, I wince, because it’s the call I’ve been dreadfully expecting. I sigh, forcing myself to get out of bed, and pick up the receiver. The silence on the other side seems to burst into my ear until I finally croak out: “Hello?” 

There was an audible sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness, hi, hello! I was just wondering if everything is okay on your end? You-You didn’t show up today, and well, I got concerned.” 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve spent most of the last few days trying not to think, so trying to do so now makes it a challenge. The Voice on the other side, I figure, knowing there is really nothing I can say to it, deserves an apology, at least. 

“I’m sorry.” I finally say and it’s where I stop. When the Voice on the other side realizes it’s all I have to say, the tone grows even more concerned. 

“Oh, no no, please, do not apologize, it happens, you know? You’re not the first nor the last to miss an appointment. Would you like to come in tomorrow? I can squeeze you in just before noon.” 

It was so hard to say ‘yes’ but I already learned it would be the best course of action. 

“Sure. I’ll come.” I pause in one decisive moment. “... I promise.” 

“Oh, that’s great!” The Voice sounds encouraging. I have to admit I’m glad about it. “Well then, I’ll be expecting you.” 

The moment I hang up the phone, I make a beeline for the shower. Perhaps it was the sound of a human voice but I’m suddenly much too aware of the fact I haven’t taken one in days, and I feel disgusted. Funnily enough, this sort of disgust towards my own being is sometimes the only thing motivating me. 

Afterwards, I wear fresh clothing, and clean up the mess I made in the bathroom. Back in my bedroom, I open the window, and reveal a surprisingly sunny day, its warmth enveloping the entirety of the space. I bunch up all of the sheets, and throw them all into a washing basket. I pick up and get rid of stray pieces of clothing and trash around the room. Already, the air in here feels nicer. 

Already, I am tired. 

_Baby steps,_ I remind myself, and head for the kitchen. I force down an apple and a glass of milk. For a short time, I lead a debate with myself and immediately stop, because if I debate too much, I usually end up not doing anything – and then I wash the dishes. 

I am so, _so_ tired. 

I lie down on the couch in the living room, bathed in sun. Behind my closed eyelids, the light dances and dances, and reminds me of the sunny shores of Endless, of bracelets gleaming in the treetops, of the lights in the space of the Woman’s abode, and the bubbles in the drinks we had. 

So tired. 

The nap I take is short and vivid. The lights intensify, twirl and make me spin, and the Woman’s laughter echoes loudly in my ears. She is right here, I think in the moment of dreamy delusion, and I try to ask her. 

_What do you want?_

The sound of her cackles disappears as I stir awake, and I try to desperately hold on to it but the more I try, the easier it slips into nothing. By the time I wake, hardly an hour had passed. My body is warm and hot from the sun. My head is buzzing with questions. I am suddenly wide awake. 

I gesture into the air, bracelet dancing on my wrist. Endless welcomes me. 

Like the last time, the instinct to rush straight to her leaves me the moment I land upon the shores beneath the cerulean sky. When I am here, I sense it better than ever. There not just the Woman on this island but the island itself, perhaps the force that runs it, or the creatures living on it, or the places I have yet to find – all calling me. 

I can’t afford this distraction, not now, not when I feel so painfully close to getting some answers to this whole thing that started two weeks ago. I tear my eyes away from the lively creatures I can make out in the distance – I'm not sure but I’m pretty certain one of them just sent something flying into the sky, like a big purple ball – and I rush into the trees. I am not sure I know the way but I don’t care. Sooner or later, I’ll find her. 

Not a lot of time passes before I find her home, and I quickly enter with full intention to ask questions first, and fall under her seductive spells later if she really leaves me no choice – because at this point, I feel it is more of her decision rather than mine - but am surprised to find the space of the vacuum cleaner enveloped in darkness. I call out to Big Deal, since his is the only name I know. No one answers. This place is vacant. 

I had not expected it but now that it happened, I can’t help but grow a bit curious. What secrets might she hide here? What answers? Perhaps I can find them without asking. 

I try to find a light switch but it is strangely absent. At first, I think I’ll have no choice but to scramble in the dark, until an idea pops into my head. I feel the small protrusions on the side of my suit that I recently finally realized where buttons. Again, like the last time, I instinctively know which one to press. 

A burst of light blinks to life, emanating from a shallow disk on my chest. I take a deep breath and get to work. 

It is only now that I snoop around her chamber that I realize there is not much here upon deeper inspection yet I notice something is off. All surfaces are empty save for lamps or plants or similar permanent décor. I can’t find any books or magazines yet I could swear I saw her reading _something_ at least once. The kitchen space is impeccably clean – it looks as if it hadn’t been used once. I could have sworn I saw clean pans and pots hanging above the stove yet now, they are nowhere to be seen. The cabinets are empty, lacking any dishes let alone ingredients for food, or beverages, and I can’t even track down the cups we had coffee from, the shelves holding nothing but few chosen decorations, and yet not a single speck of dust covers the surfaces... 

Just where is her _stuff_? 

It is odd, because unlike her things and various objects that made the room richer, the scent of her is still present. Strong, sweet, toxic scent of her own that I’ve come to know so well. I’ve come to enjoy it to a problematic degree, so problematic in fact, that I realize I had been standing there for a solid minute, just breathing in the air and imagining- 

**_FOCUS_ ** _._

Something glistens as my light moves over it, and I pause. I had completely forgotten about the large, golden birdcage. I reach up for it, trying to get some leverage on it to see what the spot might be hiding. It’s beyond my reach. I hop up, to make a reach for its edge. 

Or at least, I try. 

Instead of a gentle hop, I suddenly launch into the air, far higher than I had expected to, nearly all the way to the ceiling. I yell out in panic, start falling down before I can make any reasonable sense out of the situation, surrounded by dark. I get but an inkling of a moment to grab onto the cage, and I manage to do so, just about barely holding onto the bars. The cage swings wildly around before stopping in its place. I breath heavily, bewildered. I can’t tell what happened and for a moment I just hang there, feeling oddly elated. 

Slowly, adrenaline wears off, and I finally pull myself into the confined space of the cage, not sure how else would I otherwise reach its contents without completely wearing myself out. I leave thinking about what had just occurred for later, because I want to look for whatever it is that the little dude might be hiding here. 

There is not much, however. The light from my chest illiuminated the small space well but there is nothing of importance on the floor of the cage, scattered with shredded newspaper clippings which I initially thought would hide something more interesting beneath. There is however, nothing of value to be found. I groan in frustration. 

_Well, I tried_ , I figure, and start to turn around, trying to gather how in the world am I going to get out of the damn thing – but as I do, I slip. The force of my fall sends the cage swinging again, the newspaper clipping fly out and around it, and one of my legs gets unfortunately stuck in between the bars. For a moment I actually laugh at what seems like a situation out of a slapstick movie, when the cages’ golden little door – so far wide open - snaps closed with a satisfying, mocking click. 

“You have **got** to be joking.” I say to the empty room, shooting daggers at the lock. 

Try as I might though, my leg is protruding out of the cage and I have little to no space to get it out. Even if I were able to... I have no idea how to go about getting rid of that lock. I try to simply shake the door open but it’s surprisingly firm, almost as if welded into place. I can practically hear the Woman cackling at me. There is no way I can let her see me like this. The thought alone makes my cheeks burn. 

Perhaps it is this exact train of thoughts that attracted her back to her home, I think as I realize I _can_ in fact hear her voice. The lights suddenly turn on, and my own light, as if in respose, turns off. I am there, as plainly seen as can be. I do the best I can to curl myself into as small of a ball as possible, hoping in vain she would somehow fail to see me here, with my damn foot dangling in the midair. 

When she finally shows up, I’m further angered at the fact she still managed to pause my breathing just by showing up. This time, I’m prepared, and I firmly look away from her. _Focus,_ I snap at myself. 

Big Deal comes running up behind her. His appearance is slightly off. I realize he looks a bit worn out and skipping on one foot, the other clearly hurt. Almost as if he were in a fight or something. 

They have yet to notice me, as they are engaged in a conversation. 

“Perhaps she already left, ma’am!” 

“Nonsense!” The Woman exclaims, an increasingly more manic grin on her face. “Her scent lingers strongly. That’s twice she’d entered my chambers uninvited! The audacity!” Despite the words, she looks downright gleeful about it. As with majority of her reactions, I can’t tell why. 

“Maybe she’d been looking for you, ma’am! As you said, she must’ve had a wonderful time when you have last seen each other!” 

“That she did, Big Deal!” 

**_Well_ **. 

I bite the inside of my cheek. I could start a whole debate on exactly what kind of time I had the last time but I figure there is a better time to discuss it. 

“Hmph. She must’ve heard us coming and left.” The Woman finally concludes and it is only then that I remember – I could have easily been gone home dozens of time by now. I internally sigh at my own lack of rational thinking but to be fair, it wouldn’t be the first time this place had messed with my head. I debate whether I should use my totem now. If I did, she would clearly know I had been here and- 

I muse about it a moment too long, because that’s when her eyes meet mine. I freeze. 

The Woman stares at me with an expression of honest surprise. It is such a startling contrast to her usual fixed expression that it catches me completely off guard, and I actually grin at her, finding it funny. 

Even more unusually, she then lets out a chuckle that she quickly tries to disguise by clearing her throat. I’m not sure why she does that, as I’ve seen her laugh at my own ineptitudes multiple times. It is such an... oddly sincere, human reaction. 

“Big Deal!” She suddenly calls, interrupting him in the middle of getting ready to prepare lunch. “I have a job for you!” 

“Anything, ma’am!” 

“I need you to leave!” She theatrically announces as she turns to him. He waits a moment, apparently wanting to know what was it he was leaving the place for. 

“Uh... ma’am?” 

“Leave. Now, Big Deal! Disappear for a while, will you? I have some business to attend to, and I need some time alone if I want it done right.” 

The range of emotions that run across the little guy’s face would be enough to break anyone’s heart. In the end, he settles down for an expression of obedient glee. 

“A-aye aye, ma’am!” He manages, and flies right out. I didn’t know how much I could feel for someone until that very moment, when he dejectedly leaves, probably not himself sure what was it he was going to do until called for. 

At least maybe, he could find someone to spend time with. Plenty of other weirdos on the island. Still, I feel bad for the little guy. 

I’ve little time to feel sorry for him however, because the Woman turns to me, and now that we’re alone, I feel adequately embarrassed about my predicament. Her expression is that of childlike glee. It takes me _way_ back for a short moment, and something nostalgic flows over me. I recognize her expression on a forgotten face from way back when. The memory is gone just as fast but her expression remains. 

“Well, well, **well**!” She looks so happy with herself than I can’t help but share in her emotion, despite everything. 

“Enjoying the view?” I ask, feeling silly. 

“Oh, you have _no_ idea!” The Woman finally breaks and, for reasons that would probably elude me for the longest time, she laughs wholeheartedly as if there was nothing more amusing in her life than me, here, stuck in a birdcage. It is the first time I hear her laughing at something that genuinely tickles her funny bone, lacking any menace or ill-intentions that usually follow her maniacal bursts of glee. 

By the time she calms down, she is wiping tears out of her eyes. 

“You done there?” I tease. 

“Oh, we’re just getting started!” She exclaimed and comes up to my little prison. Reaching up and grabbing the edge of the cage, she effortlessly pulls it down to her level. I wonder if this place responds to her wishes, because up to that point I know there was _no_ way to get the cage down. 

“I never would have thought Big Deal’s little cage could be useful to me!” 

“How is this useful to you?” I ask incredulously. 

Her expression changes, and with it, the temperature in the room rises. “I guess I have a particular sort of fancy for... things at my disposal.” She purrs, and the side of her hand brushes against my face, pressed close to the bars. I blush. 

“Really not the time.” I mumble, slightly tempted but determined not to let her take advantage of me again. “I came here to talk to you.” 

“Ah, yes, I do recall you also have a particular sort of fun with _that.”_

“Not what I meant!” I manage, struggling to get out of her reach but it’s impossible in this tiny space. I grunt as I keep trying, and add: “Despite what you may believe, I don’t think we parted on any amicable terms the last time.” 

“My my, what a mouthful!” She looks at me in wonder. “Surely you’ve drawn more from our experiences together than just a lovely string of words.” She plays with the bit of my hair sticking out. I don’t even try to move away from it because I know it’s futile. Instead I concentrate on pushing open the birdcage with my one free leg. The bars of its door are surprisingly sturdy. When I feel her fingers carress my arm, I finally reply to her. 

“Don’t even try that! You always distract me when I have something important to say. Or ask.” I add in the end. My legs fight against the impossibly firm frame. I’m _not_ giving up. 

“... I suppose you caught me red-handed, then.” 

I pause just to give her a dirty look. She looks infinitely smug. 

“Oh come on now, you thought it was funny.” 

“I would appreciate the pun more if I were not,” I grunt again, my legs pushing, “ _stuck_ in this,” I retreat it, give it some room, “ _goddamn_ ,” with force I didn’t know I possess, I kick the door, “ **prison**!” 

The little golden door rockets across the room at an impossible speed, picks up one of the floating lights on its way and crashes against the opposite side of the room, causing a small, noisy explosion of golden, broken part. It had crashed as if made of glass, impossibly, _impossibly_. It all happens in a moment. 

Even the Woman stares, shocked, after the once attached pieces of golden wire, scattered across the majority of the room. 

My breath is shallow. So many new questions pop up in my head. 

“Well!” She steals my word. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

“I didn’t mean to.” I manage quietly. She ‘ _pah_ ’s’. 

“Next you’re going to tell me you didn’t know you could do that!” 

“Was I supposed to?” I manage nervously. 

Her eyes shrink dangerously as she tries to figure out whether I’m lying. 

“... Knowing you, not necessarily, I suppose.” She finally decides and rounds the cage, stopping where my suit’s boot got stuck in between the bars. Her hand grows claws. A chill goes up my spine. 

“Hold still.” She instructs, and I dare not do otherwise. She slashes at the bars and after a terrifying moment, they come down, click-clacking, my leg finally free. I stumble out of the cage and stretch myself. 

"What's the purpose of that thing, anyway?" 

"Ah, Big Deal likes sleeping in it." 

She catches my alarmed stare and looks confused. 

"What?" 

"... Nothing." I reply. There are very few things in this world that makes sense, if any at all, so why should this be any different? I decide not to make anything special out of it. "... Do you know what was it I just did there?" 

"I would truly rather not but I suppose you'll find out about it soon enough." She pauses dramatically. "Every person who visits this place is granted a temporary unique sort of... skill, to use at their disposal here. Unlocking and finding it is, of course, entirely your thing." She looks me up and down, grins. "I suppose your is hidden somewhere below the waist." 

I can't find it in me to smile at that suggestive statement, since I am suddenly much more interested in the power my own legs seem to hold rather than anything else, uh, ‘below my waist’. I guess that's why the most accentuated part of the suit I wear are the boots. Who knew there was sense to be found in here at all? 

"Huh." Despite the numerous thoughts, it is the only thing I can think of to say. 

"Indeed!" She agrees with the oddity of my discovery. "Perhaps now, you'll be able to put your body to better use." 

"You really need to stop that." I strictly say, refusing to get enveloped in the warmth that she continuously tries to rise out of me. She chuckles at it. 

"Alright, alright, I give up. But you should know it's all you can get from me." 

"... What do you mean?" 

"I mean that there is no question of yours that I can provide an answer to.” 

I stare at her, baffled at the words. She did a pretty good job explaining quite a few things about this place to me. How come does she think she could do so no more? 

"But you told me a whole bunch about this place." 

"There is no denying that! I could _keep_ telling you about this place too, if you only weren't so damn nosey!" 

I can't follow her contradictory logic. Just what in the world did she mean? 

"I assume you're confused and, if I’m entirely honest, perhaps it's for the best!" She finally announces, continuing before I can so much as say another word: “I’m sure you’ll figure out your existence here sooner or later. In the meantime; I need you to do something for me!” 

“Leave?” I ask dryly. It doesn’t take her longer than a moment to realize what I’m referring to. 

“Bah! Big Deal will be fine. I’ll make it up to him plenty when he comes back.” 

I wonder just how does one make up for being a, uh, well... like that. Still, Big Deal, like most of creatures living here, seems to be easy to please. There is no point in wondering about it. I doubt she’ll explain any of it, as it were. She continues to speak: “No, I need you not to leave but to help me against a certain thing plaguing my wonderful home.” 

There was only one thing she complained about continuously, as far as I could tell. 

“Those kids you told me about? Bothering you again?” 

“Indeed!” She confirms gleefully. “I don’t know how am I going to do it but I need them off this island - and I know I can count on you to know how dreadfully it affects the quality of my everyday life!” 

For real? 

“I can find no one more perfect than you to help me!” She adds in the end. Something stings in me. I can’t stop myself from replying. 

“... Figures, since you got no one else to ask.” 

I regret it instantly. My words eliminate her so far polite smile, and make a wicked one appear. When she speaks again, I can see her teeth, grown pointy and feral. 

“... So much more coming out of you these days.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, you **will** be.” Without warning, she tackles me, and I’m pinned against the floor, her four arms holding me in place. I struggle in vain. For what powers I might have, I have little knowledge on how to use them. 

“Let go.” I demand with the little confidence I gained over the last two weeks. I’m trembling. 

“There it is again.” Her eyes are slits. “You’ve grown well past the _mess_ I encountered on your first time here. So suddenly. So soon. Perhaps it is due time to remind you of what you’ve gained since we met.” 

“What are you-” 

[The world disappears. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sj-YyvPJlm4)

I am drowning. My heart is bursting. My appendages are cold and the sudden sweat icy, the breath going into my lungs empty as I try to breath the nonexistent air. It hurts, the panic rises, the fears awaken and tears spill out of my eyes as if they never stopped in the first place, I scream but I have no voice to do so and all is black and blue and hopeless and, and, **and-**

I’m back and the air returns but, I realize, it was never gone to begin with. An illusion, all of it, scarily accurate and painfully relevant. I breathe in rapidly, though there is no more need for me to do so – air is here, and it fills my lungs, and it does so without pain. The sweat and the tears and nowhere to be felt nor seen but panic overwhelms me. 

“What are you doing to me?” I ask, afraid of those sensation coming back to haunt me. 

“Did you not listen?” She hisses. “It was a reminder. You can have all those beautiful things back, should you want them.” 

“W-what? No, I-” 

“Perhaps you’re greater of a flagellant than I thought. It might as well be true that one like you would enjoy drowning in the depths of your own vile insides. The same way you crave the corporeal punishment for everything you are, and are not.” 

No. No, that was not- 

“After all, what is easier than to not exist, while perfectly preserved from the mystery hidden behind the veil of death? Surely, that sort of safety is the only reason you’re still allowing yourself to live.” 

**Stop it.**

“Unless, of course... Do you need help taking your own life? I would be willing to oblige if there was truly nothing more you desire.” 

**STOP IT.**

“I ought to do you a favour and simply take it myse-” 

“STOP IT!” I scream. “Stop it, please, I just- I just want for once everything in my life to **work**!” 

Everything I had achieved by that point, all the confidence, the words, even my posture and the way I could look people in the eye, it all crumbles in an instant before the threat she presents to me, before the uncomfortable truths and alternative realities that seem so close, so dangerously, terrifyingly near. The whole world I began building anew is falling apart. 

“Do you truly mean those words?” I hear her ask. 

Filled with panic, I fervently nod but I don’t notice her tone. I am no longer pinned to the floor. My eyes blink open and, as if crashing the illusion for good, all the things in me that had crumbled, seconds ago, are suddenly back. I breathe and breathe. I’m fine. Everything is fine. 

“What would you give to keep what you have?” She hisses out. “To grow even further? What would you do?” 

I think about my answer carefully. It doesn’t take me long, however. 

“Anything.” I shakily reply. 

“Splendid.” Her grin widens. Her fingers lift my chin up. “ _Splendid_.” 

It’s not the grin of a person. 

An animal. 

A _monster_. 

“In that case, let’s try this again.” She leans in, cocks her head. A predator. “ I need you to do something for me.” 


	4. One Impossible Decision

I decide not to go back.

Days pass me by in what I firmly decide is a blissful existence. I do my appointments. I’m managing the chores and obligations. I even get in touch with Him after nearly two months of not hearing from each other. I am always surprised by how much He appreciates to see me.

He is doing well. Found a sweetheart. It’s going well. Finally got a job in the field of interest. I always found it impressive that He delved into physics. Figured it would be something else, or that he’d find it too difficult. And now, he says, he might be moving sometime next year. I try not to think about it, both because it’s so far away, and because it’s not.

We always somehow end up talking about Her. No matter the topic, the mood or the intentions we have to enjoy each other's company, her shadow still lingers between us. We always part with bittersweet thoughts creeping into our minds, and each and every time, I believe it is the last time we would see each other. Somehow, I know He feels the same way.

Days pass me by as I do what I need to. I am happy. I am happy.

… I should be happy, right?

My dreams are invaded by the piercing colour of the islands’ sky and the woman’s laughter. By the silky white sands of the beach and by the sounds of bracelets, clicking in the gentle breeze. By the taste of the drink we drank and her lips, by the sensation of a new friend’s hand, unknowingly leading me through a forest into the den of a beast whose tortures I came to crave.

I feel sick to my stomach – more and more as days pass by. As my life returns to its typically dull regularity, the further the memory of the Island is, the sicker I feel. I can still feel its desperate pull on me. I can sense something waiting on me.

I decided not to go back... but I know I’m breaking. It’s the matter of time. And I have a feeling time means nothing on the other side. She will wait, alright. As long as necessary, until she gets what she wants.

I know I am expandable in that regard, and I hate it.

There are chances she might find someone else to do her dirty work. The thought enrages and aggravates and terrifies me.

How many other people are on that island? Who else is in need of whatever there is to be found? Are there more people seduced by her unconventional charm? Questions infest my mind like a plague, squirming, not letting me think.

I am happy. It won’t last.

And so, a decision is made.

Nearly two weeks pass before I find the peace and strength of mind. I steel myself, exhale, and open my eyes. The last thing I see before the Endless takes me away is my reflection in the mirror.

It has been a long time since I could stand my reflection. Been longer since I could give it an encouraging smile.

When I land on the sandy beaches of the Endless Island, fully prepared in my mind to deal with the Woman as I should have, I am caught off guard by a commotion all around. There is something akin to a celebration of some sort, and I use the noise and the crowd and general chaotic air of joy around me to slip away into the nearby bushes. It is then that I see, for the very first time, other people on the Island, and it instantly sends my established confidence into a spiraling downfall pit.

They are kids. Two kids. They are engaged in a chit chat. I can’t hear anything, for the residents of the island also gather around them, loud, laughing and yelling after them. I try to come up with a plan to sneak away, when I hear a certain name emerging in the joyous shouts of the colourful crowd:

“Todd, Todd, who is this?”

Ah. Todd.

… Where have I heard that name before?

Tater Tot mentioned a Todd, I realize as my eyes notice her in the crowd.

Todd, who has a totem. Todd, who needs this place, like I do.

Todd introduces the girl – Gwen – to the crowd. She’s new here, he says with a wondering smile. Hasn’t visited too much. They met a little while back. And, uh – he stops there, looks shily in her direction. It tells me everything I need to know but no one else catches the drift.

… Huh.

I move away from the crowd that prepares for a welcome party and slip away, unnoticed.

I walk for a long, long time. Whatever it is that’s stopping me from contemplating about it back home, it’s gone while I’m here. The golden shores are inviting. The air is fresh and nearly tasty. I can think.

And I think. About her words. About her threat. And her demand.

**_Break their totems._ **

I try not to shiver at the very thought but it is inevitable that I do. My own means so much to me that I would fight tooth and nail for it if any danger were to befall it. Just thinking about taking that from someone, anyone, is- is-

I feel nauseous. It comes abruptly and I know it is fear, fear of the mere possibility of not making it back here. Afraid both for itself and others. To not be able to come here is-

… Just what could possibly happen? Why is it so hard to imagine this place gone without-

I drop to my knees, clutching at my stomach as the nausea turns into what I would classify as cramp if it didn’t hurt much, much harder. For a moment, the world fizzles before my eyes, like a candle near extinguished by a drop of water.

It takes me a moment to digest the information I’m experiencing a panic attack but, for whatever reason, it manifests as sheer physical discomfort in this world. I put the thoughts of totems away from my mind and try to think of something, anything, anyone-

I barf. It’s green and long and worm-like and it floats off into the sky. I stare after it, and questions multiply in my head.

It’s gone. Just another question left unanswered.

I sit on the beach for a long time.

… I was never going to do it.

It didn’t occur to me for a second to break, or steal or destroy.

My totem was everything to me. A precious memory of the past, and a cherished trip into a better today, if only for a little while. I can’t take that away from anyone.

Not even for my own life.

“Puma?”

I turn around, the pain momentarily forgotten. Tater Tot approaches me. “Are you okay? You look like you’re hurting.”

“I’m fine, Tot. Thank you.” I get up. “... Say, who is that boy you were with just a moment ago?”

“That’s Todd! He is one of Twelve’s friends.” She pauses. “He brought a girl with him.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratory whisper. “I think he likes her.”

“You don’t say?” I play along, smiling. “Is she nice?”

“She seems okay.” Tater Tot walks circles around me, kicking rocks in the sand. “But I don’t know her long.”

“Aren’t you going to go join the party?”

“I was gonna but then I walked over here.”

“Oh-kay?” I try not to wonder. Too many things to wonder about. “Well, since you, uh, walked over here already, wanna hang out?”

“Sure!”

I ask Tater Tot to show me around. Might as well take one last trip.

She takes me all over the little nooks and crannies of the island I failed to explore before. Shows me her favorite spots to play, both there where she plays in company of her best friends, and those where she plays alone. She shows me where she practices playing an instrument. Which instrument, I ask. She smiles at me as if I asked something silly, and answers: any I want!

She shows me where this girl she mentioned before – Twelve – used to grow a disgusting sort of little garden. I try not to think imagine it and so is she, I think.

She shows me the giant, impressive arena where they all play Four Square. She is one of the best, she brags. One day, she’ll show me.

Lastly, she shows me where she comes to be alone.

“I am usually here alone BUT” she pouts, “I guess you can stick around this one time.”

“That’s so nice of you.”

She beams at the words and we sit down in the grass. I ask her why does she need this place.

“To sort out.”

“To sort out what?”

“Me, of course! To sort out me!”

Well.

The words she uses don’t sit well with me at all. “...Why would you need it?” I ask, concerned. “You seem just fine to me.”

“You seem fine to me too. Don’t you ever have stuff you need sorted out?”

“Well, uh, I mean...” When she says ‘sorting out’... Perhaps her meaning is less heavy than mine. “Nah, you’re right. I guess we all have to do it, every once in a while.”

“I could help you with it, if you wanna!”

“I don’t need it right now.”

“You don’t?”

… Do I look like I do?

“You do.”

…

I look at her. “What did you say?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you just-”

But Tater Tot just stares at me.

Coincidence. Just a coincidence.

Or perhaps the strange magic of this place.

… Whatever it is, Tater Tot is not aware of it. She hops back to her feet.

“Want me to teach you how to play four square?”

“... Sure.”

We play it for what feels like hours.

...

My stomach doesn’t ache anymore.

.

.

.

I’m ready.

* * *

“Finally! You took your sweet time.” The Woman greets as I slip inside her home. “But I knew you’d be back.”

“Do they all come back?”

“Hnn?!” She snaps at me. “Whom do you mean by ‘they’?”

“... Never mind.”

Well. I let a small smile escape. At least I can feel a little bit special before it's all over.

Any and all signs of warmth she usually so casually threw my way are gone. She doesn’t offer me her hand, nor does she coyly touch my face. There is only ice in her grin and a monster in her eyes.

Well. Suppose it will end how it began. Lonely. In solitude.

Still. I am okay.

It only fits that I should die so.

“I came to say goodbye.”

I can tell she didn’t expect that. I can also tell she can’t tell what I’m thinking for a change. Even in a moment like this, she surprises me.

“What kinds of nonsense are you saying?” She spits back. She is upset. For a change, I don’t really fear her rage. It just kind of saddens me.

“I can’t-” I pause. “- I won’t do what you ask of me. What you ask is beyond terrible. What you ask is not what a humane person could do.” I finally find the strength to stare her in the eyes. Two bottomless pools of pink with little place for empathy. “But I can’t go back to the way I’ve been, so... before that happens...,” I repeat, “I came to say goodbye.”

I’m not sure how I’m doing it. Perhaps the same way she would always effortlessly envelop me with her charms. But I can tell that, this time, it is me, sending something back to her.

_Goodbye._

_It was fun._

…

_I will miss you._

Something in me stirs a bit when I see the shock on her face as she realizes what my message to her is but I don’t cling on to it. It would be pointless to let hope hurt me any more than it already did.

“You have offered to... assist me... the last time I was here. Should you want and enjoy doing so, I-”

“What the blazes are you talking about?” She hisses, nearly a whisper. Ever so slowly, her hands rise and just as slowly but firmly grab me by the shoulders. “ _Everything_ you gained,” she proceeds to spit out, “ _Everything_ I gave you and you decide to use it for courage to do this?! I have not wasted my precious time to-”

“Oh, but you don’t care about time.” I laugh feebly, and despite the smallness of my voice, it shuts her up immediately. Her rage is quiet in the face of my absolute carelessness. “You have all the lifetimes you want in here. That much, I gathered.”

How I did, I’m not sure.

This world speaks somehow, I imagine.

“I just want some quiet.” I close my eyes. “For an eternity or so. And if you are not willing to help, then this is it from me. Time to go home.”

When I reach for the totem on my wrist, it’s stopped by the red hand, clenched on my wrist. For a moment only, I don’t dare but then I look at her. There is rage and there is anger but there is also something I’ve never seen on her face. I can’t recognize it. Perhaps better said, she won’t let me see. But it doesn’t matter because the rage takes over, it takes over the way it always does take over her I imagine, and I know because whatever was it that she held in her eyes a moment ago was young, and like a spark but her rage is not anything like it. Her rage is like a storm and like a fire and it is old and eternal.

She slams me into the wall, painfully. Something like a growl crawls out of her throat. The pink of her eyes is gone. Her teeth are staring me down, and momentarily frightened of it, I close my eyes and forget the fear, accepting death by her hand. I can tell she moved her arm back, preparing to slash. I hear her growl. Whatever pain I might feel... it’ll be fine. It will be fine.

I am happy.

I smile.

I am so, so happy.

…

A thought trickles into my head as I wait for my life to end - I wonder what she gains out of slaying anyone, anyway? Why have I assumed she likes to kill? Because she offered it yesterday? She was clearly trying to scare me. Still, I know she killed before. Said so herself.

… Still. Weird of one to assume another one will kill them. What a weird jump of logic.

… Am I dead already? Well, at least she made it quick and painless. Doesn’t feel that much different, either. Like sinking into sleep.

… Wait, I think that might be what’s happening.

I open my eyes – only I can’t. Maybe I have – but all I see is a warm light.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I wake up.

I’m right there, in front of the mirror in my home, lying on the floor. How I got here, I don’t know. I don’t remember touching my totem-

I am suddenly scared. I reach for the bracelet and-and--!

It is here. It’s still here. I sigh a breath of relief. I shouldn’t care but I do, I do so, so much.

I look up and into the mirror. My reflection is still there. Still okay to look at. Still able to smile at itself. The realization washes over me.

It was never her. Not entirely.

It was always my battle to lead. My battle to win.

Whatever her motives might’ve been, she helped.

And whatever she thought she put into my head; it wasn’t true.

… But if I wasn’t her pawn anymore... Can I still go back?

…

No point.

I was only there to be used.

Never to be liked, or to be with, or to talk to.

I feel better than I have in months.

…

So why do I want to go back?

Is it the Endless, or her? Is it both? Have I imagined the feeling of being beckoned to the other side? Is the entirety of this feeling an illusion?

… Can’t be.

I look into the mirror again.

Two bright eyes stare back.

_... This is not over. The Island won't let it end._

_And even if **it** did..._

I rise to my feet.

_**I** won’t._


	5. One New Friend... Just a Friend.

_There was a strange shift on the Endless Island._

_No one could really point at_ _it, and tell_ _what it was. No one could determine its source properly nor call any one specific being out on it, as the one responsible for whatever or whoever it was that changed, either exactly or approximately, was a mystery._

_All that the citizens of the Endless knew was that somewhere, somehow, someone was aching in a way that wasn’t usual nor understandable. It was this rhythmic sound, this feeling, this_ **_echo_ ** _of a sort of ache that kept sneaking momentarily into the hearts and minds of the denizens of the Endless and it was that drumming, steady echo that sometimes, occasionally, made them worry. It was not a thing of this world, they would think, then forget about it, and went on about their day._

_The echo wasn’t sustainable enough to be remembered but it was present in a shiver. Or a blank stare. Or a momentary feeling of corporeal displacement. In the end, it would leave as fast as it came, and would only return occasionally, a repeated, drum-like sensation of wrongness and oddness and everything that is not to be._

_There was a strange shift on the Endless Island._

_But no one on the Endless could recognize it anymore._   
_And as such_   
_the shift remained alone_   
_in its wrongdoing._

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

In the week that follow, I am haunted by a single thought, a realization that festers and pokes in the back of my mind through each and every part of every day. Though I had but started putting my life back on the track, it is this thought that fills me both with determination and fear, for whatever the consequences of this thought there end up being, it can change my life forever… one way or the other. The thing that had become clear to me is simple on its own but as an action I need to take, it becomes a quest of proportions that I deem nearly more important than my own life. 

There are things I **need** to discover about Endless, one way or another, is my thought. How to go about it is beyond me yet the need to know whatever there is to know about it is gnawing at me every time I wake up, and during every one of those moments just before I finally sink into a restful sleep; free of thought, free of dreams of cerulean skies and the Woman. 

While the Woman might not be as welcoming towards me right now, she does not know that I can be very patient. One wouldn’t assume me as such, I imagine but it is one of the things I can with certainty claim as my own. Patience of a saint, my mom used wonder at me when I was still a child, while the two of my best friends were about as flippant and rash as you might expect five-year-old children to be. Though not too many memories of my childhood stuck with me, that one particular thing my mom had said I took nearly with pride. Patience is, after all, a virtue, I had heard, and for some reason, my patience became my shield whenever I needed it as I grew up, be it issues with school, miscommunication with my parents, or understanding the needs of my friends. 

My friends… 

I shake my head and lightly slap my cheeks, focusing on the mirror yet again. 

Determination the kind of I haven’t seen in years stares back from my eyes, encouraging. I nod at my reflection, and raise the totem on my wrist to the air. 

I don’t seek out the Woman. Though I feel like I have much to sort out with her, it is not yet the time and to be honest, I am confused about the way we parted last time. I fear to meet her again for it is quite possible I have already lost her company for good but more importantly, she might not let me walk away unharmed this time. I was not yet ready to find out whether that was the case. 

Too confusing, in the end, too confusing. Instead, I seek out Tater Tot. I ask around for her but can’t seem to get a certain answer on where she lives. I am finally told, by a big, nervous sort of fella, that he last saw her skipping off in the direction of the lake with her friends. 

In the end, that’s where I find her playing with her best friends, Beth and Pretty Please. They are skipping rope, and singing a children’s song I don’t recognize in the rhythm of the skips. I watch them for a while from the distance – though I’ve come to like Tot more than I expected, and though the mystery of her is just as appealing to me as that of the Island and the Woman, I have a softer spot in my heart for her; as such, I don’t want to interrupt her game with whom she calls best friends. There would be time for us to talk later, I imagine as I slide down the trunk of a tree, letting them play and sinking into thoughts. 

… It is strange, however, how I still can’t point my finger on her age. Or age of any other creature here, really. By all means, most of them act like children. But very few of them actually seem to genuinely be one of the younger residents. Some of them occasionally display a higher, more refined form of intelligence but it all seems to be so short lasting, fleeting. So many things I have yet to understand. 

If I hoped to get some answers one of these days, I realize, there was still the question of where exactly to seek them. 

Patience, I remind myself. As long as I am living and well, I have all the time I need, and after my last time here... strangely... My will to stay here remained strong. 

The shade of the tree invites my eyes to a close, and before I know it, I softly fall into a daydream of colourless nothing. Shadows of leaves dance on my eyelids, conjuring up strangest of images. I enjoy the reverie of colours until I somehow gather that someone is sitting next to me. 

When I come to, Tator Tot is right by my side, staring into the waterfalls intensely. Seems to have been sitting here for a while in fact. She is as still as a statue. 

“... Tot?” I call sleepily. She jumps to her feet abruptly. 

“About time! Beth and Pretty Please got tired of waiting and left me here!” She exclaims in faux anger. “You sure can snooze for a long time!” 

“Waiting for what?” I blurt out, still half trapped in a dream. 

“For you, silly!” Tater Tot huffs. “Now we’re all alone again!” 

“Oh... I’m sorry. You can always wake me up, or just leave me by myself, though. I won’t get mad.” “Well, what’s done is done!” For all the huffing and puffing about how her friends left her, Tater suddenly doesn’t look so cross about it anymore. “I’ve got things I want to show you, anyway.” 

_Really?_

“Oh! Well. Show me, then.” 

She beams at me, takes my hand and leads the way. 

Straight into the lake. 

We tread through the knee-high water and reach the waterfall. Tater Tot shouts something I cannot hear, motions, and steps through the falling water. 

Well! I step forward, and pause for a bit, testing the heavy, energetic sensation the falling water engulfs me with. It doesn’t last – I feel Tater Tots’ hand pull on mine impatiently, and as I fumble forwards, I find myself in a cave. Instead of darkness, light spills over the walls, blue in hue and of unknown source. The light stretches into the depths effortlessly, and I realize it is more of a tunnel. There is a speck of white light at the far end. 

“Where we going’?” 

“You’ll see!” 

Not long after, we emerge from what seems to be a peculiar gray mountain I hadn’t at all perceived from the other side. It takes me a moment to realize it is a giant skull. 

… I try not to think about possible implications. 

“Almost there!” Tater informs as she pushes her way through the knot of ferns and bushes, not walking on any defined path. I try to keep up but she is so much smaller than I am, effortlessly avoiding whatever might snag at her helmet, or scratch at her limbs. The rocks and stumps that she climbs over I have to be careful not to trip on. Soon however, we abruptly emerge into a wide clearance, oddly straight in shape, stretching indefinitely both to left and right. Just about twenty feet away, the neat grass ends, and... it’s... it’s... 

“It’s brand new!” Tater informs excitedly when she sees me staring. “I don’t know how long has it been here but I think you are the first to see it. Well, second. I found it by myself the other day.” 

It takes a moment for me to register any of Tater Tot’s words, and so I fail to form any coherent thought for a while, let alone words, because as she speaks, dread fills me up slowly, icy creep that makes my hair stand on end. 

Before me is a wall of trees, thick and spreading out further and deeper than I can see. The woods are green and black, just leaves and darkness, the bark ancient and gray, the leaves large and obscuring, the grass tall and bushy. I make no move but the trees do and there are hands and limbs and darkness that reaches out from the trees is about to engulf me and I blink and I take a step back and the woods make me dizzy so I shut my eyes and I ask it to stop to stop to STOP- 

Touch of Tater Tot’s hand grounds me in reality harder than I thought and I turn away from the awful sight and crouch. The sound of my shallow, quickened breathing becomes obvious to both me and her. 

“… You don’t like it?” 

“I--,” I try to reply but all and any words I come up with can't describe the increasingly painful knot in my stomach. I blink my eyes open and close them again, because truth lurks in the woods and I’m not ready to stare it in the face. The cold sweat on my brow smudges in my hands as I grip my head, suddenly feeling both heavy and light, suddenly so tired yet so desperately wanting to get away, and away and-- 

Tater Tots’ small hands, so far hesitant, firmly take mine. I open my eyes and meet hers, big, round, worried yet understanding. 

“Let’s go.” She simply says, and takes me away. 

We stop in the solitary tunnel on our way back. The blue hues calm me down, and as my breath comes back under my control, I can finally find words. 

“Thank you.” I manage. Tater Tot doesn’t reply. It is weird. It is very unlike her not to. She leads the majority of our conversations. 

“Tot?” I call out, carefully. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

“ **You won’t find anything there.** ” Tot speaks strangely, and look at me surprised. At first, I wonder why is it that she looks at me that way but realize it is not me that has surprised her. “Why did I say that?” She wonders aloud, and just as if it was never gone, her usual playful demeanor returns. 

“Puma!” She suddenly squeaks, as if noticing me there for the first time. I know it is not the case but I can also tell another thing. She is avoiding to talk about it at all. 

“Yeah?” I hear myself say. 

“Let’s go, already! Beth and Pretty Please are probably nearby, looking for me! We can all play Four Square!” 

I leave the tunnels of blue with Tater Tot’s hand in mine, her warmth all too hot against the cold sweat on my palm. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

I start visiting Endless nearly every day, and though she has no idea when I might be coming, Tater Tot usually manages to track me down, or I her. Most times, her friends hang with her but more often than not, we separate from them to hang out on our own after a little while. I am not sure why either of us does that. I do come to Endless to research and study it. In addition to that... perhaps, I am just lonely. Tater Tot reminds me of some of the lost fragments of my childhood, and though I’m not half as sassy and hotheaded as she is, it is that side of her, I believe, that draws me to her, for much of her character makes up for things I have never done or said. 

But Tater Tot has been friends with the other two for a while, and I can tell they must have grown up together here. Just what is it that made her so relentlessly drawn to me whom she has only just met, is a mystery. Then again, she might be like that with other friends and other people who might be visiting while I’m not here. Who is to say... Best not to think about it, I decide in the end. Whatever her reasons, I appreciate her company but can’t help but wonder about her, the same way I wonder about everything here. 

As we spend more time getting to know each other, I start to realize there is more to Tater Tot than she herself might be aware, and I am not entirely sure how it is possible but I mark it down as one of the characteristics of this place. When we talk, she has moments of seeming lucidity when she says something I wouldn’t otherwise attribute to her. Then there are peaceful moments, when she asks me about my family, or even tells me about hers, something she sometimes doesn’t consider an existing factor in her life – I once asked her where her family lives, if not here. She cocked her head curiously, as if the question is not up there in the scope of things she’s able to give an answer to, then forgot about the question just as quickly. 

Much like with most weird things here, I learn to let go of the oddities for the time being, mentally putting them aside for the web of information I’m slowly creating in my mind, and focus on the pleasant time the Island gives me. 

Initially, I don’t spend much time there. I tire of childish games too quickly, and much of the activities on the Endless seem to be of such and similar nature. But Tater doesn’t seem very demotivated when I tell her this. We easily slip from games into more... active hobbies. Exploring the lost or untrodden parts of the island, looking for whatever there is to find in the shallows or the sand where, Tater claims, many treasures are buried, racing to the other side of the island, climbing the mountains of Endless that are always just different enough so that climbing them again is an interesting challenge, feats of strength Tater especially wants to get better at – all of a sudden, we bond in a way I didn’t think possible through these challenges we set for ourselves. Though she seems small and stubby, and isn’t as fast on her feet as I am, she more than once displays an amazing feat of strength or agility. 

“At this rate, you might surpass Twelve someday!” She tells me one time as we’re resting under the tree after a race, far on the other side of the island where the sand turns snow white, and the leaves of deep blue provide us with shade. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Tater Tot blink, amazed by herself. “Twelve is like, the strongest person there has ever been! She could launch a mountain halfway through the sky!” 

“You don’t say?” 

Tater nods fervently. “But you’re getting strong too! Only, not in the arms but same difference, right?” 

Oh, so that’s what she means. 

Ever since I performed that little stunt, breaking the little golden cage in the Woman’s abode, and somehow jumping to it to begin with, I’ve been trying to test the limits of this newly discovered skill. Much to my chagrin, however, I can’t seem to control it at will. Tater Tot tells me constantly it will come to me sooner or later – as it does with anyone who visits, she assures me. Though just being here puts me in a miraculously better shape, the strength in my legs only returned to me on one other occasion, in the heat of the competition Tater Tot and I had running up the hill – something clicked in some particular moment, and I found myself _leaping_ all the way to the top, leaving Tater Tot far behind me. 

I wish I could recall what was it that had been going through my mind in that moment, because I was sure it was the key to unlocking whatever powers there were in me. 

“It’s kinda odd that of all the powers, this is the one I have though.” 

“How come?” 

I pause briefly and realize it’s been a long time since I spoke of this to anyone. “... Until some years ago, I had this dream of being a professional athlete. Running, being fit, healthy body... my life was very much about that.” 

This is something I usually don’t talk to people much about. I’ve found surprisingly little sympathy for my dream among the people I know, perhaps because it is hard to achieve a dream of that scope, and even harder to dream about it considering the ‘small-town-girl' image pretty much every girl in this small town has, as it were. 

People thought it silly, pointless or, in some cases, simply boring. 

Tater Tot was as impressed as others were bored by my ambition however. 

“That sounds amazing! But... Are you not doing it anymore?” 

“No, I, uh, my focus kind of shifted and such. It isn’t as... interesting, anymore.” Pause. “Well. You put the fun back into it, which I’m really grateful for. Thank you for giving this to me.” I pause again, then throw all caution to the wind. “With you, I feel like I can successfully grow again, if even a little bit.” 

Much like most inhabitants of this island, Tater Tot took compliments gladly, like a much-wanted praise, and without much thought. So, when she merely smiles at me in understanding, I wonder if there was some growth to be had on her side as well. 

It is one of the longest days I spend with her, and once it ends, I find myself strangely reluctant to leave, so I take one last walk down the beach alone. It is then that I realize what makes this place seem so strange considering my time - no night. The sky is too bright and it always beckons me to act and do things. No twilight nor sunset lets me know of the passage of the time, so I have nothing but my own train of thought to go by. But I can tell I’m tired, and ready to get some rest back home, perhaps with some light reading, or with snacks and a sitcom. Anything will do, as long as there is night. 

Or at least I was ready to do all that until another hand stops mine from touching my totem. 

I turn around in alarm, momentarily ready to flee, and am surprised to see Big Deal. He quickly loosens his grip on my arm. 

“Uhm!” He mumbles in panic but I can’t be angry at the little guy whom I probably startled just as much as he startled me. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” I assure him. “You just spooked me, is all.” 

“Uh, I, uh, I was sent to get you!” 

_… Well!_

I keep my cool and raise an eyebrow so high that even Big Deal can tell I don’t find that sort of invitation appealing. “I- I’m sorry, she told me that’s what I should do!” He tries again. “She wants to let you know you can come back if you want!” He tries encouragingly. I'm absolutely sure that's not how she worded it, and even more certain Big Deal is trying to be nice about it.

“... Well, uh. How nice of her.” He probably doesn’t catch on to the sarcasm. I’m for a wild moment curious enough to think I should follow him but figure she’s counting on me to be. I grow firmer in my decision. “You can tell her she can come get me herself if there is something she wants to talk about.” I cut off a bit coldly. He fidgets. 

“Oh - I-I don’t really want to tell her that.” 

I deadpan. I understand but, well, it doesn’t make me that much easier to persuade. 

“Sh-she told me to tell you to come as soon as you’re able.” Big Deal tries again, believing wording it differently will have an effect. 

It does. But... 

“You tell her I already have.” Pause. “ _Multiple_ times.” 

He looks as confused as I had expected he would, and I pat his back with a smile. “Don’t worry, she’ll understand that.” I assure him and wink at him. 

Finally, believing this secretive exchange of words will satisfy ‘the ma’am’, Big Deal smiles. 

“Sure!” He finally agrees. “I-I’ll see you later, then! I don’t want to keep her waiting!” 

If there was any chance that she wouldn’t notice me, or if there was any way to conceal myself, I would probably follow him _just_ to see the expression on her face. As it is, I doubt I would remain hidden for long. So, I settle for the tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, she’ll get ridiculously upset over having been delivered a dumb pun. 

I do wonder what she’s thinking, suddenly inviting me over. Not only because I thought she forgot my existence as it is, or because I believed she was perhaps planning a trap to end my life once and for all but because she had to _gall_ to do so. 

Ignoring her feels pretty good, I think cockily as I return home, landing in front of a large mirror in my hallway. 

_But you can’t say you weren’t tempted_ , small voice quips inside of me. I roll my eyes at the blushing reflection in the mirror. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

The next time I land in Endless, Big Deal is the first person I see. Well, I sneak a peek of him, rather. He is badly hidden in a shrub, and I imagine he used to be hidden better before he had fallen asleep. I go up to him and gently wake him up. I try to, anyway. As I nudge him, he jumps and yells. 

“ _Iwasjustwaitingforsomonesorry_!” 

“I don’t mind you waiting for anyone.” I say jokingly. 

Once he realizes it is me, he visible relaxes. “Oh, it’s you!” He gasps. “It is you I’m waiting for!” 

“What for?” 

“Uh, M-Ma'am sent me.” 

I deadpan. He looks worriedly at me. 

“Well. Did she, uh, say anything?” I ask, clearly referring to the last time him and I spoke. 

“Uhh, not really. I couldn’t tell what she thought of your message. She laughed at it, and then got angry about _something_ , and spent a looong time being frustrated...” Big Deal rambles, and I do my best not to burst out laughing right then and there. 

“In any case!” Big Deal announces as he realizes he rambled too much, “she told me not to come back without you.” 

“Hmm.” I think about how to best piss her off. “... I guess you and I are spending a day together, then.” 

“Huh?” He manages. 

“Well, I will not go to her, and you can’t go there if I don’t, so clearly, we should stick together.” 

“Oh!” His eyes round. “Oh, uh, o-okay!” 

“Great!” 

We spent a jolly nice time together but avoiding everyone else. He is not popular among others, he says, and has difficulty admitting it is due to his associating with the Woman. From what I’ve heard from Tater Tot, no one here has any reason to like her. Herself and the island seem to be in sort of a “good versus bad” clash, almost as if out of a cartoon, and there was truly little anyone could do to permanently get rid of her. 

The time I spend with Big Deal is not bad by any means but unlike Tater Tot, he is very jittery and nervous, stuttering his way through a good deal of his sentences and decisions. He is not the guy for challenges or any sort of thing that even narrowly borders on the kind of excitement I usually enjoy. Rather, he suggests we play hide and seek, and promises that next time we hang out, he’ll bring some board games. I find it sweet, if a less adventurous time to spend an afternoon in the Endless. 

At some point, we end up having an improvised picnic on a meadow of butterflies literally coated in butter, and about as alive as butter back home is. They taste better than I had expected. 

“Man, if Endless had night, it would be the perfect place to be.” 

Big Deal stares at me for a moment. “B-but if there was night, we couldn’t see anything.” He says that as if it were the absolute worst thing to happen. I chuckle. 

“Well, sure,” I accept, “but day always comes after a night.” I can’t believe I used such a cheesy sentiment in a literal situation. 

“I- I’m not sure if that’s how that works.” 

I shrug. “It does back home.” 

Both of us drop the topic, perhaps realizing that we can’t understand each other. 

“I wonder when ma’am will allow me to come back home.” 

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it literally.” I encourage. “Besides, you can always tell her you’re just visiting her. That way, you’re not coming back home yet kind of are. She is going to be _so_ mad.” I laugh at the thought.” 

He gasps, slaps his little hands over his mouth but I can tell he’s entertained by it. He tries to hide it by exclaiming: “How rude!” 

“Sometimes, the nice, or even funny thing to do, is to be rude.” I nod. “Your ma’am is, uh... I like her but she needs a taste of her own medicine.” 

I’m not sure if he can understand the idiom, for he doesn’t say anything, and instead hums as he contemplates my words. We spend the rest of the picnic eating in silence. 

I do miss the night... but the day sure is gorgeous. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

I have a nightmare. 

Blindingly blue skies peers into my unblinking eyes, light boring into them like knives.

The pain is out of this world yet when the image of the woods flashes before my eyes,

it’s almost little compared to the ominous feeling in my gut.

When I wake,

the pain is nowhere to be found but shivers envelop me at the very thought

of the woods Tater

showed me.

I turn in my bed, and fall asleep immediately, forgetting that the dream and the pain ever happened

until many days later. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Two weeks had passed at this point, and I can tell I miss her. 

Not exactly sure which part of her I miss. The fun part? The conversations we shared? The enigma that she is? Perhaps all at once. What I do realize, all too suddenly and with much surprise, is that a part of me wants to help her. What with, I wonder? No answer to that one becomes as easily apparent. I, however, do feel like I owe to help her with something. 

Well... the answer won’t become obvious unless I try to find out, will it? 

That day, Big Deal welcomes me again. He doesn’t seem half as nervous as the few previous times. The Woman has little to reply to the messages I send back to her home the few times I refused to follow him but I make sure they are always stupid or flirtatious jokes. Almost every time, she gets angry about it, if it were to judge by Big Deal’s stories. 

“Hello, Puma!” 

“Hey there yourself! Let me guess, you came to get me?” 

“Y-yeah!” 

“Any way to persuade me today?” 

“Yeah! She told me to tell you she has got something of yours!” 

What a cheap tactic, I think with a grin. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a worm!” 

… 

“Excuse me?” I chuckle in disbelief. 

“Uh, so, it looks like a large, green, shiny worm.” Big Deal explains as if talking about what he ate for lunch. “And, uh, she can **tell** it’s yours.” 

The memory of a worm I threw up weeks ago surfaces and I blink in surprise. I had completely forgotten about it with everything else on my plate. 

Suddenly, I’m _really_ curious. Perhaps she’ll have some answers, I think to myself. Perhaps she's finally ready to give some.

I get a bit nervous. Who knows what awaits me in her abode. Who knows what her plans is?

... Like I said, nothing will happen unless I try.

“Lead the way, Big Deal.” I encourage with a smile but feel anxious all the same. 

When we reach the Woman’s lair, a shiver runs down my back. At the same time, I feel a comfy wave of nostalgia washing over me. I really did miss her. Better not let her know, I think as I steady myself – knowing her tactics, she’ll read all of my being before I even enter. Big Deal helps me inside. 

“Well, here you are! I’ll see you later!” 

“You leaving already?” 

“Uhh, Ma’am said you-” 

“Of course she did.” I roll my eyes and my heart sinks. Remaining alone with her is exactly what I didn’t plan on. “I’ll see you later, Big Deal. T-take care, okay?” 

Just for a moment, he seems to notice my worry. “Aye aye, Puma!” He greets with a smile, and flies away. 

I turn around to face the room. It is empty, or at least it looks like it. The last time I was here, much of the stuff around her place was gone, like cups and books; but here they are, back in their original place, used and taken care of, part of everyday life. Perhaps Big Deal had been cleaning the last time, or something. I can hardly imagine her doing it herself. 

But I have little time to think about her home’s arrangement because I’m suddenly grabbed from behind. Two of the red claws hold my arms. One wraps around my body. The last one threatens to cut off my face, or at least so it feels from this vicinity. 

Something is off. I realize her arms are far, far bigger and _longer_ than before, even compared to one of the forms she has already shown me. Each of them seems to have grown an extra joint, like an additional elbow, and the looks of it make me sick. The fingers are as long as my forearm, and the elbows grow edges that feel dangerous to touch, as if her bones protruded from her body, skin tightened over them. 

“ _I'm afraid it is gone!_ ” The euphoric voice behind me is hers but she is not the same person I knew before. My blood turns a few degrees colder as I realize a vibrating, deep, new tone underlying her usual voice, and it does nothing but make the whole situation that much more terrifying. “ _What_ _they give me is precious little to be found... I could not resist its tangy scent!_ ” Nearly a hiss to her voice, nearly something far more animalistic than human. 

It takes me a moment to remember why I’m here, and what she’s talking about. I swallow, thoroughly frightened but still managing to keep a level head. 

“Y-you, uh—you...it...” I pause, trying to form a coherent sentence, “what happened to it?” I do have an idea but- 

“ **_Consumed_ ** _!_ _Destroyed! Turned into..._ **_this_ ** _._ ” The long, huge limb moves unnaturally in front of my eyes, flex and show off. The long, sharp fingers spread open all spidery and spindly. I have to try very hard not to back away. “ _Fine use of it, if I do say so myself!_ ” I dare not turn around because, selfishly, I prefer the memory of her usually unusual self. Whatever is behind me is not something I'll be able to cherish the same way.

Yet, despite the fact that behind must be something monstrous, I stay still and relatively calm, for she has not hurt me, and I truly believe it was never her initial, immediate intention. She holds me there, and then I feel the cold, trembling air coming from her, similar to the way her warmth had touched me numerous times, yet so much worse for this is something entirely different. Not an attack on me, or prodding of my own mental defenses; this is something personal of her own, something heavy and difficult. This is her mind’s dilemma, I suddenly realize: there is a decision she is trying to make. 

“... _Now that you’re here,_ ” her voice is suddenly devoid of joy, and there is hollowness to it, “ _I don’t know whether I want to talk to you or_ **_kill_ ** _you._ ” 

There is something she leaves unsaid, and I whisper it for her, both terrified of the sudden truth imposed on me, and thoroughly saddened about it. 

“... Both options seem just as appealing to you.” 

Her fingers shift on my shoulders, press, relax, press again. She is deciding, deciding, and I fear her decision will narrow down to what she always knew, to what was easy, to what she was used to - rage and violence and anger. In spite of everything, I hear a chuckle. A low, deep, bemused ghost of her usual laughter... but a chuckle. The grips on my shoulders relax, and her arms retreat. I hear the sound I have heard before, that of her body morphing. After a few seconds, I dare myself. I turn around. 

The Woman is just the Woman she has always been... isn’t she? 

After a long stare, [she](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z9G8BdnFGs&list=PLZ2qXgl4GvcIdCE9vWnxjclVNM-Ilgl2O&index=20&t=0s) cocks her head and rests it on the knuckles of her hand, laughs softly, says even softer: 

“I guess you’re appealing no matter how I look at you.” 

I hate the fact warmth overwhelms me when I see her face after such a long time. I take great comfort, however, in knowing it is not any sort of magic trick like the one she used to put over me. I hate the fact distance and time only made me more aware of how much I really wanted to see her. But I revel in the smile the kind of which I never saw before. Far less threatening, far less predatory, and far more similar to that of someone like me. I enjoy the fact her eyes don’t bore into me, reading me, and that she is not trying to put any sort of spell on me – everything I feel when I see her this time, much to both my delight and dismay, is all just me, and all simply because of her. 

I must look like deer caught in the headlights, for she laughs at me again. 

“Come now, surely you didn’t think I’d let go of you so soon? You’re too much fun to get rid of.” 

Just what _is_ this woman to me? I decide to put that question aside, even though the answer sometimes seem so plainly obvious. 

“... Why is it that you wanted me to come back?” I ask sincerely, because it is the one thing I can’t understand – why would she want me back here in the first place? 

No answer comes. No serious answers of any sort, anyway and no answer the kind of I expected. Instead, she just grins, and says:

“I could always use another henchman.” 

I laugh abruptly. But I know the message behind her words. How exactly, it is hard to say but I know that her little joke speaks and tells me so much more; while she is here, I need not be lonely again. While she is here, I may call her friend.

“That’s an-- _interesting_ way to tell me--” I manage, laughing, caught entirely unprepared by the face there is something like this in her. By the fact she could in fact use a friend. That she might even need one.

“You know I have a way with words.” She slyly adds. “But I’ll let you pick how I should call you, if that would satisfy you.” 

I blush to the roots of my hair and curse myself over it. After the things she had put me through, I’d expect to be less shy about things like these but distance and time we put between us make her teasing seem like a new experience all over again. 

_Focus_ , I remind myself. 

“I was starting to think there was no capacity for… uh, this, in you.” 

“Hnn?” She cocks an eyebrow, curious. I force myself to continue, take a breath. 

“Whether you planned to or not... you did help me in the end. And you didn’t… let all that help go to waste, so to speak.” I swallow. This is no easy topic to speak up about, especially with her who sees everything so easily and yet seems to care so little. “For all that happened between us, both the nice and the ugly, whether you are okay to call us, um… friends, or not, I, uh… I do enjoy and want your company.” 

Never in my life have I so openly told someone my feelings. Never in my life have I done anything lesser than that to begin with, for I never had courage. Never have I had someone I could pour my heart out to, and back when I did, I had never done it, for I never knew that someday, I would lose both my childhood friends for good. It is good to be able to tell someone, just once, exactly what is it that I feel. Just once.

I expect her to mock me for this declaration of amicability but she seems rather interested in my words, almost as if they weren’t aimed at her at all but rather something she observed and studied. For a moment, I fear she might be. 

Then she finally replies. 

“Perhaps I’ve grown too used to the company of borderline children.” 

“…Meaning?” 

“Why, I keep forgetting you’re not one.” 

Her mouth stretches into a genuine smile. “Come closer.” 

Just like that, I’m dipped into a pool of warmth which is a product of my own sudden shyness. I slowly approach her, closer and closer than I thought I’d dare, for with every step, one of the memories of her sensuality resurfaces, and none of them I can remember calmly, and all of them I love. When I stand right before her, I have to look up to meet her eyes. 

There is vastness of curiosity in them as I haven’t experienced before. It is different, it is… personal. It makes things that much more complicated for me, because I have no idea if the Woman realizes what kind of message she is sending to me. I can’t even sort out my own feelings, yet here I am worrying over hers, provided she has any. 

Her hand slowly rises to touch my cheek but her face is inquisitive. She concentrates on something beyond me as she caresses my cheek and moves my hair behind my ear. 

“You are a funny little woman.” Her finger moves to my chin. God it tickles. 

“So you’ve told me.” I scoff and roll my eyes, thinking she’s teasing me again. 

“So much to you…” 

_Shame and_ _self_ _-_ _hatred, yes._ _That_ _I’ve_ _been_ _told as well._

“… So much more than I bargained for.” 

I meet her eyes again, confused. She chuckles. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve told you, haven't I?” Her face is much too close. “Appealing no matter _how_ I look at you.” 

It is when she doesn’t kiss me that I realize she is honest; when she doesn’t use me for whatever purpose she had so far used my body, and instead opts for an affable smile that I finally get the answer to my question. What is she to me? So far away from being an object of my genuine love and yet... more. 

More than just a friend. 

… Well. 

. 

. 

. 

Fuck. 


	6. One Dream inside of a Dream

I dream of her again and again and again. I love it, I hate it. 

I didn’t think that after the last time I saw her I would think of the Woman any more than usual. As it turns out, I must have not had a crush on someone for a while, because I had forgotten the symptoms that come with it. The dreams of her temporarily become the main reason I look forward to falling asleep. In dreams, countless futures involving her happen, the good, the bad, the terrifying, the tragic, the best and the worst, the probable and the impossible. Yet I don’t mind any of it. In dreams, I dare be myself more than I do in the real world. In that sense, it is not a good thing. My days again become a circle between sleeping, and visiting Endless where I spend time with Tater, with nothing to show for in between. At first, I figure I might at least do something relatively useful to get the most out of my time spent there yet all I do in Endless is lose myself in a daydream, and at first, Tater Tot doesn’t seem to even notice. 

On the third day however, in the midst of one of my indulged silences, she tackles me into the grass, and not gently either. 

“Hey, what gives?” I ask playfully. My smile drops when I see an uncharacteristically big frown on her round face. 

“Right back at ya!” She snaps. “Lately your head’s been like a balloon!” 

… _Uh_... “... What?” 

“Floating!” She cries angrily. “Your head has been anywhere and everywhere but here with me. I had started thinking that we were becoming friends but you clearly couldn’t care less if I was here or not!” She pauses to take a breath, and continues before I have a chance to say anything. “It’s like you think I’m stupid or something!” 

I have never seen her like this. Something in my stomach uncurls and stirs, uncomfortable and heavy. 

“I’m sorry, Tot.” I whisper, suddenly ashamed of myself. 

“Ugh! Forget it. This day is ruined already.” She pouts. “Just, come back whenever you get your head back on your shoulders!” She stomps off, and it is that whole situation that makes me start appreciating the fact I still have my own life, out of here, waiting for me. It is in that moment that I make the heavy decision to take a break from Endless, as much as it pains me, and decide to dedicate my time to doing whatever it takes to get my life back on track. 

Unfortunately, the decision includes one of my appointments. I groan at the mere thought of having to endure an hour of it but then again, it was one of those annoying, small, insignificant things you never thought would keep your head just barely above water, and for that, I’ll eternally be grateful. At the very moment however, as I turn on my laptop and prepare myself for the voice call, I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. 

“ _Hello? H-hello? Is this thing on?_ ” 

“Hi, it’s on.” I encourage. The Voice sighs. 

“ _Thank goodness! Sorry for the way we’re handling things lately but if I missed this convention there would be a lot of people I’d have to answer to_ _,_ _and truth be told, I haven’t got the time nor the energy for it._ ” 

“Your co-workers, you mean? Do they even care?” 

“ _Ah, they, and then some... people here get very few worries aside from hassling me, despite the work I get done.”_ The Voice sounds tired. “ _I_ _gotta_ _say, I was never big about these events. Not that they are not interesting - necessary even - but this was not what I signed up for when I finished school. Too many people, you know._ ” 

“Well. You’re telling me.” I say jokingly. The Voice chuckles. 

“ _Indeed, while it should be the other way around! Tell me, what is new with you? How have_ **_you_ ** _been handling things?_ ” 

So I tell the Voice about how the last week or so of my life has been me returning to my routine of sleeping and ‘surfing the Web’, because it’s the only way I can accurately describe me wasting time in Endless doing literally nothing without making it seem like I’m insane. Sometimes, I still wonder if I am. 

“But I decided to change all that again. Started getting up early, been cleaning the house for a while... it’s a mess all over. I went for a jogging for the first time in forever two days ago.” It’s been a while since I jogged around my neighborhood and I must admit, it had been a refreshing experience. “Even talked to a couple of neighbors when I went out.” 

“ _Beautiful! These ‘circles’ you keep falling back into are getting shorter and shorter, and it’s important to not lose sight of the fact that circles are something we all fall into sometimes. Seems like your mind is finally starting to understand that!_ ” 

“Y-yeah...” I fall quiet, wondering whether to breach the topic. It is not exactly something to talk to someone like this about, yet... 

“ _I can tell there is more_ .” The Voice playfully notes and I can’t help but laugh softly. The Voice gets excited about it. “ _Ooh, I do hope this means it’s good news!_ ” 

“Well. I guess. Though it’s both good and kinda bad at the same time.” I pause. “... I met someone.” 

The array of emotions sounds off in the Voices’ gasp. “ _That is wonderful! But I do realize how that might be ‘kinda bad’, as you put it._ ” 

“Yeah, I—It's not—It's a really, _really_ weird sort of relationship we have.” 

“ _Oh? You’re telling me it has advanced enough to become a relationship of sorts?_ ” 

“Y-yeah, absolutely.” I pause again, and decide to spill out a bit more: “To be honest, this has been going on a while but... I’ve only recently felt like there was an actual progress.” 

“ _Don’t think you did wrong by not telling me about it.”_ The Voice quips _. “That information is entirely yours to give or not and, to be honest, your choice of doing so or not is also part of this journey you’re taking._ ” 

I suppose that’s true. 

“ _Anything you’d like to tell me about your new friend?”_

_“_ She is, well... kinda weird.” 

“ _You’ve said as much_ _so_ _far!_ ” 

“Yeah but it’s... it’s not even ‘kinda’.” I admit, laughing again. “The way she speaks, I’d say she must be so much more, uh... ‘put together’ than I am but, at the same time, she is just as... problematic.” I pause. Did I ever put these thoughts into words? I always forget how much it helps. 

“ _Problematic how?_ ” 

“Uh.” I think for a moment how to put problems of someone so alien into human terms. I briefly wonder if the Woman could be classified as a human being. “... She has some serious anger issues.” 

“ _Ah._ ” I can tell the Voice nodded, somehow. “ _And in what way does this concern you?_ ” 

“I mean.” It seems obvious why this would be a concern to anyone but at that very moment, I’m caught with nothing to say. The Voice continues: 

“ _It is good if you want to and can help. At the risk of being selfish, you must remember that this person you met_ _might already_ _ha_ _ve_ _a way to deal with her own issues. Don’t let her problems become yours. Help as much as you can but don’t internalize._ ” The Voice pauses and then, in the characteristic joking manner, adds: “ _Not yet, anyway. The rules perhaps go a bit differently with lovers._ ” 

I laugh and thank god for the voice chat because the blush on my face is much too obvious. I decide not to say anything to that remark, because I’m afraid I might go off on a tangent. Instead, I focus on the ‘selfish’ bit, because I spent a good portion of my life not being selfish at all. Worrying about other people’s issues brought me nothing but pain and disappointment in the past. Yet... 

“I get that. I just want her to be happy.” I pause. “... Though I do realize that if I were to achieve that, I must be happy first.” 

There is a pause on the other said. I wonder if something is being written down. 

“ _Excellently said_ .” The Voice is pleased. “ _For the benefit of both you and your friend, let's keep doing our best to make you as happy as can be_.” The Voice shuffles some papers on the other side, and as we delve into other topics, I can’t help but wonder if I had forgotten the true definition of happiness. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Almost twelve days pass before I decide to visit Endless again. Though I had missed all of its charm and a few of its residents dearly, I had remained resolute in my decision to take a break from it and focus on my own life more, and the obsession I had nearly developed with it and the Woman subdues. I use my totem with a healthy dose of curiosity and nervousness of the unknown – I have no idea what to expect of Tot, or Big Deal or the Woman and, perhaps most concerning of all, I don’t know what to expect of the Island itself. For a wild moment, I imagine my totem might not work anymore, for I have distanced from it and its influences for so long that I have a feeling the Island might have forgotten me, instead of the other way around. 

I can’t help the flooding relief when my totem effortlessly pulls me into the world of cerulean skies. Much as I expected, Tater Tot does not welcome me, nor do I spy her anywhere nearby. It’s just me by myself. It almost feels as if I were here for the very first time. 

I trek the by now familiar path to the woman’s abode – or at least I try to, for it would seem it had changed again, longer, narrower and less familiar than before – but I don’t get too far before something pulls on me. Not in the way one would imagine – there is nothing and nobody there to pull on my shoulder or tug on my clothes but I turn around as if someone had rushed to stop me in my tracks. I peer into the direction I have been turned to, and dread crawls up my spine. 

The Woods beckon me. 

I can just barely make out the clearance before it and the deep, terrifying emerald greenery from where I stand but it’s the same woods that sent my mind into recess last time. Dark and uninviting, terrifying and all sorts of panic-inducing but it beckons. I remember Tater Tot pulling me away from its terrors faintly, and imagine the kind of meltdown I’d have if I were to go alone. Impossible. _Impossible_. 

I turn resolutely away. 

I climb into the Woman’s lair and find her watching what appears to be television. The banality of such a thing as a television in this world baffles me. She perks up at the sight of me, and it gently plucks at the heartstrings I have until recently considered long since dead. 

“There you are!” The way she says it makes it pretty clear she has indeed grown genuinely fond of my company. It is something that will take me a while to get used to. “Here I thought I were to be abandoned and forgotten!” 

“I sincerely doubt you believed that for a moment.” I say cheekily and she grins. 

“As you should.” 

_Focus_ , I tell myself. “Is Big Deal around? You didn’t shoo him away again, I hope?” 

“What kind of a heartless monster do you think I am?” She snickers at my face expression. “The little man should be back soon. He went off to get whatever he will consider _edible_ for today.” Whatever that idea of food she has in mind, she is clearly not impressed. 

“Is he not very good at it?” 

“On the contrary, he quite excels at it. No but it continuously reminds me of the kind of substance I crave.” 

“Ah.” The worms, I remember. Such an odd thing, to be feeding on emotions. Negative emotions, at that. I briefly think of vampires. 

… Then I wonder, when did I realize that _that_ was what the green, weird little things carried with them? Suddenly, I can’t recall. 

“So, what’s it like?” 

“Hnn?” 

“The taste.” I can’t believe my own curiosity. “What does an emotion taste like?” 

The sort of smile that spreads across her face is wickedly scary. “Oh, one cannot put it into words.” She paused. “Should a chance ever arise, you should try one.” 

… The thought of eating back something my brain basically regurgitated is repulsive. “I think I’m good, thanks.” I offer with a shaky laugh. “I don’t think humans are meant to consume them like one does regular food.” 

“Nonsense! Surely I'm as close to a human one can physically get and I can eat them just fine!” 

I’m not sure if her appearance has anything to do with being able to eat those things or not but whatever discussion we would continue to have is cut short by Big Deals’ arrival. The happiness he displays at the sight of me warms my chest and when he rushes over to give me a firm hug around my knees, I can’t help patting him on the back. Then he politely excuses himself, for ‘he wouldn’t like the ma’am to go hungry’ while we lounge on her bed.

The idea of something as normal as lunchtime existing in this world perplexes me and I realize I never spent a normal day with the Woman so far. At first I figure it is going to be something vastly different. But I soon learn she’s been engaging in all sorts of activities I could never attribute to a being like her, as boring as she deems them. Whatever boredom she felt, as the two talk, my eyes go rounder and my mind grows heavier, for there is a vast amount of information I gleam from them in that single afternoon. 

She and Big Deal tell me the better part of their story from the moment she “came back” as she puts it, though came back from where, I cannot tell. I find out about the mayhem she caused (though she refers to it as her 'rightful mission') and the troublesome way it ended (her 'unfair demise'), and the weeks that followed, when she took a prolonged rest so as to recover (long hours of nothingness as she waited for 'the damn children to fight among themselves just bloody _once'_ ). She speaks passionately about the way negativity in general makes her feel, despite the fact she only a little while ago claimed it cannot be put into words. What hole inside her weird heart things like anxiety and fear fulfil exactly, I don’t know... But my initial role in her life is suddenly much clearer. I wonder how much she gleaned from using my body. Though embarrassing to think about, I find it strange that such simple, direct physical contact with a person in distress also helps her. 

“Oh, it would have happened again, without a doubt,” she lazily adds, as if it weren’t a serious thing to say, “were it not for Big Deal. Slow as the process was, I'd have to drain you _dry._ ” 

Clearly being teased, I decide to ignore that remark, though I doubt she missed the redness of my face. 

“What do you mean? Has he asked you to stop?” 

“Blazes, no! I’ve come to a realization he cannot take the entire true nature of my being.” She laughs. “He’s taken a shine to you, however.” Big Deal hops over to me as he brings me lunch. By all definitions, it _should_ be a sandwich. When he leaves, she continues: “He was gleeful about the fact he could finally hop about with another person on this childish inferno where everybody ostracized him. I wasn’t as easily persuaded. However, his own affection towards you made me wonder how come you didn’t leave yet. Surely, I thought, she wasn’t that much of a glutton for punishment.” She finally drops the funny face, and looks me in the eye as she says: "I guess it made me realize I wasn't as indifferent towards you as I have originally imagined I was."

I imagine this must be the extent of the proclamation of friendship I’ll get from her, and take a moment to bask in it.

“Well, uh. As for me not leaving...” I pause. Honesty is best policy, or so I’ve heard. “I want to help you.” 

“Yes, yes, oh that much, I have gathered.” She chuckles at my embarrassed face. “And though there is no possible way for you to do so, I couldn’t help but find it _positively_ lovely!” 

“... What makes you say that?” 

“Goodness, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?” 

“No, I meant-” I groan, “I _could_ help you. If you let me.” 

She looks at me levelly. “If you could, I would have remnants of three shattered totems in the palm of my hand right now.” 

I shiver. “N-not what I meant.” 

At this point, she seems annoyed. “Then what the blazes are you talking about?” 

I pause, not entirely sure how wise it is to bring this up. Anger issues, I called them. This is a whole different level. This is a whole different _entity_. I doubt any doctor, real or not, could help whatever bothers her mind. If there was a relatively human mind there in the first place. 

“I mean... Have you never wondered what makes you want to destroy all of this?” 

“Has anyone ever wanted to poison a rabid fox that keeps messing with their backyard? This is quite the same.” She smoothly delivers. “And until I see that fox dead in a ditch, I will not be able to rest.” She sips her tea.

Well. I guess that settles the conversation. Trying not to think about how she is actively trying to maim whatever children visit this place, I bite into my sandwich. Whatever it is, it is edible and a bit too salty. 

“What is that hellish noise?" The Woman snaps so suddenly that I drop the plate on her bed. "It hasn’t stopped since the moment you arrived!” Confused, I strain my ears but don’t hear anything out of ordinary. Big Deal is humming a tune as he’s washing the dishes and there is a faint, comfortable sound the floating lights emit. Aside from that... 

Wait. 

There it is. Just what is that? A... drum?

... _The_ drum. Deep, long, dreadful drum that is not a drum at all but it is a rhythm, and it repeats, then seems to inch closer, not louder but closer... what does a sound do when it gets close?

The fall and rise of the rhythm, getting closer, shutting up and then-

“It's i _n the woods_.” 

The words leave my mouth without me knowing it, and I instantly become nauseous. Moments later, I sway, and fall into nothing, never sensing wherever I landed. My body is not mine yet the greenery and a dark starry sky take over my eyes and instead of a salty lunch all I swallow is earth, and the dusty grass is in my nose and lungs and I cough and cough and yell out names I can’t recall anymore and there is a hand, a hand I need to grab, just reach out, all I need to do is **grab her** **ha** \- 

I am snapped back into reality, or whatever Endless is because I am suddenly graced with the full knowledge that for all the realness it has, it is not a reality I belong to. 

Big Deal is holding my head, the Woman right next to him. My eyes stare into his face, contorted with worry as one might expect. Her expression is the once that startles me. There is something ancient and terrifying in it. Not directed to me, not as a person. But she clearly sees something I cannot. 

“I need to leave.” 

“I think that would be best.” The Woman agrees, so quietly and so readily that it worries me. I grab my bracelet and disappear, the warmth of Big Deals small hands still on my neck. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

The woods plague my thoughts. 

Why? What does that dark, wrong growth want from me, why now? What hides in there that brings me to the brink of the small of my sanity I still got a hold of? 

I need to know. I don’t want to but I know it’ll never end. 

The next time I’m in Endless, I seek out Tater Tot. Who else? I don’t want to do this alone. 

I **cannot** do this alone. 

I find her in her secret spot, thinking. When she turns to look at me, I figure her eerily serious frown looks no different than the last time I saw her. I prepare to say something, anything but I don’t get to. She speaks up first... and says something that sends chills down my back. 

“Took you long enough! I’ve been waiting for like, _hours_!” 

… She couldn’t be... this _can’t_ be... 

... She is... 

“Excuse me?” 

“What, are you now deaf as well?!” 

... As upset as if we have fought only moments ago. For a little while, I just stare at her, mentally adding another terrifying fact about this place – time is not as it seems. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” I blurt out. 

“’Sorry’ won’t cut it!” Her words bite at my pathetic attempt at an apology. “Ugh, you are so frustrating! I thought we could be friends but all you do is treat me like a child!” 

I make a very guilty face and she somehow reads it and gasps, shocked. 

“I am _not_ one, you **idiot**!” 

It is the first time I hear this very real word in Endless, from someone like her. Words like that don’t belong to this place, I somehow reason. Her voice changes with it, suddenly lower. Suddenly intense. 

“Am I a joke to you? Did you think you could just prance around with me so as to forget whatever it is in your insanity-ravaged head? As if I am a damn toy?” Her eyes are huge and empty and they terrify me. “Am I a joke to you?” The deepness of her voice makes me shiver. 

I remember that fancy word I once came upon. ‘ _Sonder – the realization that each person has a life that is as real and vivid to them as yours is to yourself_ _._ ’ 

I realize that, for the most part, I took Tater Tot for exactly that – a toy. Yet she is no toy, nor a character out a story book, nor an imaginary friend. She was born and grew up here, and though her thinking process in unlike mine, she is a living, breathing creature, however alien and ridiculous it might seem to me. I never knew what else I would consider Tater Tot, knowing her tendency for childish and sometimes naïve behavior. Then again, I seldom hear her speak like this. Like a person. Like someone like me. 

Like someone who can feel fear at its worst. 

“You were never just a toy, Tot.” I start out hoarsely, throat dry. “Y-you are my friend.” ... There was no fooling her about the entire truth. “... But I perceived you as one, anyway.” I admit. “You and I are very different. I forgot that it shouldn’t matter that we are.” 

I feel miniscule before her unrelenting stare, threatening to swallow me whole, to drown me in my own shame. 

Suddenly I fear dying.

Am I about to?

Her eyes are black, her voice damning me.

She must hate me.

Cursing me.

Her hand is--

“ **_Well whatever_ **!” 

The sudden squeakiness of her voice startles me out of whatever personal terror I was going through. Gone are the terrifying eyes and the person – there is now Tater Tot, the toy. And she urges me: “C’mon now then, Beth and Pretty Please have been waiting for like forever!” 

I do not ask Tater Tot about he Woods that day.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I find myself not entirely trusting Tater Tot anymore. Though we manage to resume our friendship in a manner similar to the way things were before, I sometimes catch her staring at me. All I can then think of is the temporary blackness of her eyes and the realness of her person. It is too much. I don't need another real person, I selfishly think. I prefer the toy. What's the harm in having a friend toy? I'll go with that, I tell myself.

And I feel like she knows.

And I dream it. 

When I again wake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and panting as if running for my life, there is no one else I can think of to help me. 

When I visit the Woman again, she greets me with a certain dose of playful apprehension, if such a thing were to exist, and I assume she can read certain things on my face without needing to try - it's simply something that's a part of her. Perhaps it is for the best, because the nightmares I suffer from require both her humour and attention, I believe.

“I had a nightmare.” I explain simply the distress I seem to displaying. 

“Ah! You come to me for a remedy? Oh I am certain I have something in my arsenal that will pick you right up!” 

“Well a cup of tea would be nice.” 

I catch her pausing with something very much resembling a ray gun. Or at least what I imagine it might look like. Her face produces something that very nearly turns into a pout.

“... I guess tea would do just as well.” She reluctantly agrees as she puts the gadget away. My eyes keep following it as she prepares the cups for us. It contains a poisonously grew liquid, resembling the tone of her skin. I sit on the sofa and observe her. Making tea. It almost feels like home.

I wish so desperately it were.

“Ha! It has been ages since I had tea! Or at least a month but who keeps track anyway.” She nonchalantly states as she pushes a giant, ornate china mug into my hands. I must visibly recoil from it, for she crooks an eyebrow and proceeds to ask with a grave sigh: 

“What is it now?” 

I clear my throat. 

“It’s green.” 

“You have never had green tea before? Perhaps that explains why you don’t live up to your beauty potential.” 

I look down at the ‘tea’, ignoring hear teasing words. Sure green tea is fine. Toxic green, however? Definitely not my cup of tea. 

I mentally slap myself.

“You sure you’re not just trying to poison me?” She laughs very hard at this and I know why – if she wanted me dead, I would be already. I take a brave, generous gulp. A warm, tingly feeling engulfs me as if I sank into a bath. I breathe out, audibly and with little care about how it sounds. 

“ _Nice._ ” I whisper and grin with approval. 

“I thought the likes of you might like it.” She swallows the entirety of the contents of her cup in two gulps and pours more for herself before she sit next to me.

“Just what is in there?” I mumble, lazily spinning the contents of my cup. I spy her looking at me from the corner of my eye.

“Secrets.” Playfully she say. I laugh.

“Well damn, who knew.” 

We get comfortable on the sofa and when she prompts me about nightmares, I tell her about the one repeating itself – the woods. But it's not just the woods anymore. The woods that beckon and call in Tater Tots frighteningly low, deep voice, for there she sits, distantly, on a rock staring at me but I can never reach her; the woods in which Big Deal is running away from an invisible enemy, the woods through which the Woman, masked, walks and stalks and kills, and ultimately, find me and— 

“And that is usually where it ends.”

She looks at me perplexed.

"Even with the help of all the things I found out about you, nothing tells me what could have inspired such a horrid sequence of dreams."

"I could even take the horrid parts, if only I could wake up rested."

"Well! Why didn't you say so?" Out of nowhere, it would seem, she pulls out a tiny vial the entirety of it, glass and all, into the tea. It sizzles and rests, and changes from toxic to murky green. I make a face at her.

"You sure I won't melt or anything?"

"Don't you trust me?"

I squint my eyes at her.

"Right." Then I take a sip. Instantly, I feel drowsy. For a while, all is quiet.

“...While it is certainly charming that I should appear in your dreams," I hear her say, "I did not expect it to be in such a manner.” 

My tongue somewhat betrays me through the haze I feel myself falling into. 

“Eh, you are all over there, somewhere.” 

When I wake up, I wonder how it was that I fell asleep in the first place. I have no dreams to speak of but I’m as rested as can be. 

The Woman is next to me, and there is a towering pile of empty cups at her side. I have never thought that I would ever see her so peaceful yet here she is, presumably in the same dreamless sleep I experienced. I can’t see her face, because her head is resting on mine. We are leaning onto each other, side by side, and for a moment, I just cherish the moment, snuggling myself just a bit further into the crook of her neck. Her body is surprisingly soft, very unlike the grip of her firm, bony hands. 

Perhaps it is the strange tea but something in me prompts me to go back to sleep, knowing I’ll fall back into it easily. Deciding to enjoy her vicinity a longer, I relax into her again and close my eyes, hoping for the dreamless state to last longer than a moment.

I'm caught by surprise when I start to dream.

I dream this exact same scene. It is a bit brighter, a bit fuller, the surroundings fading away and all there is is the two of us and the sofa we are one and it is a bit more touchy and suddenly I realize I am embracing her, effortlessly, with no will not bravery to it, just pure, unabashed wish to hold her. 

Her words are coming as if from afar and I realize she is asking if I am fine. 

Something inside of me scoffs. I have had quite a few of dreams like this one but not one of them was as potent, not one felt as real, not one of them could I recall to its full extent but this one seems to be etching itself into my mind. I am, indeed, fine. Just let it last. Such a polite version of her have I dreamed up, I think to myself. Still, the Woman in my dream, it would seem, takes my sassy smile a sign that she might show a less gentle side of her. Not that I mind. 

Her kiss pushes me against the back of the sofa, which I sink into carelessly, shaking with the pleasure each turn of her strange tongue brings. The last time we did this, I didn’t even know she was using my body. The first time, she hardly touched me. I decide I am not letting this lucid dream get away until I’ve used it. 

I pull at her, gasping at the sensation of her pressed against me. The voluptuousness of her body alone is enough to grab the attention anyone but the sensation of pressing myself to it, the alien hotness of it, the way she deliberately slithers over me as her hand runs down my side, is making me lose all control much too easily. Then again, why control anything anyway? I openly enjoy her touch, her kiss and her voice, whispering in my ear. 

“You must have been wanting this at least half as much as I have... which does say a lot.” 

_Well_. I'll have to ask her the recipe for the tea when I wake up.

I manage a breathless laugh. “You are such a slut.“ I tease her playfully. I don’t expect my remark to be replied to with a short, deliberate touch across my panties. It is only then that I realize I don’t have any clothes on. 

“I have told you once before, haven’t I? I will not tolerate any rudeness in my abode.” 

“Jus' call it how I see it.” I breathe out, not ready for any intense ministrations yet not being able to help the playfulness; but she seems to refrain from making me pay for my impoliteness. Instead, her fingers seem to be intent on torturing me, gently touching me and then not, circling the edges of my panties and occasionally fluttering over the most sensitive of parts. 

“You are so cute when you squirm.” She purrs into my ear unexpectedly and I blush at the compliment but don't recoil from her stare. Anything and everything goes. A soft hiss escapes me when she lifts the edge of the panties, a tiny bit fresh air feeling nearly ticklish on my skin. She seems to be taking her sweet time but I am desperate to get what I can as soon as possible – I don't know how long the dream will last. With that in thought I surprise her when I suddenly push at her, and I am surprised that she lets me. I re-position myself to straddle her but it doesn't make me that much significantly in charge, what with her height. I feel small and suddenly out of my depth about what I'm doing - hell, I haven't been like this in years and I definitely didn't have this much control in my other dreams - but she encourages me, smiling curiously. 

“Go on, then.” 

I kiss her again and, for what I'm pretty sure is the first time, touch her, placing my hands on her sides, taking a bit of control, wanting to see what can I do except for letting her do everything. 

I am not sure if it is simply the nature of her red cover, whether it is a suit or a skin, or if its simply the enhancement of the dream, but touching anywhere feels perfect to every one of my senses. The smoothness of her belly, the muscles of her arms and voluptuousness of her breasts. The sounds she lets out in turn, pleased, curious about everything I do. The scent is intoxicating, and she is tasting of that strange tea. I try to find traces of shyness on her and am not surprised not to find any. The smile she is giving me, however, is much less predatory and much more... inviting. 

“Don't stop now.” She coyly says, gently hanging her arms over my shoulders and caressing my hair, and I realize I'm staring and probably crushing for her all over again right here and now in this moment that feels so simple and like an everyday situation. I etch the situation in my mind. My lips busy themselves with her impossibly firm neck while my hand slowly sinks lower and lower, and at the exact moment I touch her, I feel her own hand between my legs. Wait, how is she-... oh. 

I don't know when it is that she sprouted extra arms but between two of them stuck in my hair and my shoulders, the third one dangerously close to giving me relief and the fourth that fondles whatever it can reach, I suddenly feel trapped. No, actually. I’m just not used to the sensation. It’s not ‘trapped’. I feel... almost... _worshiped_. 

For a moment, I wonder if this is a dream at all. As they say, if it is, I don't want to wake up. But how could it be that it isn't? I don't care, I realize.

“I told you not to stop.” She repeats, a slight growl escaping her, and that's when I realize I have paused. This plain display of her enjoyment is... The realization startles me if I'm being honest. I slowly lower my hands further, curve my fingers a bit andI gasp at the hot, slick wetness between my fingers, and the low hiss she lets out in my ear turns of the last of the reserves I might have had. For the longest time, I hadn’t felt this, this need, this... tender, tangible tension, with anyone. What shyness I carried as a shield is swept away by the fact I can make someone feel like this, and then when I hear my name uttered by her mouth in that desperately turned on tone, I have to breathe louder and deeper to remain calm, for I have never told her my name and to hear it uttered here, in this perfect dream... if there was ever a good time to die, it's probably now.

There is something very alluring about this sort of control, and I find myself being the one starting the talking this time. 

“Need me to stop yet?” I playfully ask, a silly, flushed grin on my face. She chuckles deeply, her voice resonating through her entire body. 

“Should you do so, I will unhappily follow your example.” She threatens with a purr, and just to drive a point home, slowly pushes her fingers deeper into the parts of me that have gone neglected for so long. The moan I produce is nothing short of carried away. I forgot there was a possibility of feeling like this. “Perhaps I should be asking _you_ if **I** need to stop.” 

“Don’t you dare.” For a command, it sounds very much like pleading and she chuckles wickedly at it. 

“Not to worry.” She pointedly says, almost like an observation. “As amusing as it is to watch you _suffer_ , there is something endlessly more rewarding about seeing the way you shook of your shame.” 

Well. She is definitely better at talking. They way she enunciates things alone turns me a degree hotter, the way she follow every one of her words with a different, new touch on my body. But the way she drinks in my image? Her eyes slide over every part of me and I, for once, find it extremely... invigorating. 

“In that case... d-do you like what you see now?” Breath heavy, I rest my hands on her shoulders and for a moment she doesn’t look too happy to have stopped being touched... then I slowly shift my body up and up from her hand, and then slowly, deeply lower myself down onto her fingers and I feel my insides bloom with euphoria, body shivering and something nearly a mewl inadvertently leaving my mouth but I don’t care because all I can focus on is riding it off for as long as I can. 

For a moment, I get to actually enjoy seeing her speechless. The way her grin grows ferocious and the pinkness of her eyes gets clouded by what I can imagine is sheer desire, I conclude I had done something very right. Her grip on my body tightens in response to my shamelessly self-satisfying motions. 

“I expect to see much more of you, little woman.” She looks me up and down, eyes lingering on the place where her hand keeps entering my body. “This will do _very_ nicely for now, however.” She pulls me close, my body pressed firmly against hers, and her breath against my throat. “One just wants to eat you up.” I feel her teeth tracing against my neck, my jawline, shivering at the acutely pleasuring sensation it brings in the bask of my peak. “But we’ll get to that.” She concludes before suddenly working her hand against me and again, I am in bliss. 

Which part is it that makes me lose track of time? Hard to say. Everything touches upon buttons and buttons and buttons I didn’t know I had. There is not an inch of me she hadn’t left unexplored, whether she touched it by hands or tasted it by tongue, her grip on me suddenly feels way too firm to able to resist, and why should I want to when moment after a moment I keep sinking into the depth of pleasure as easily as I sink onto her hand, messy, wet and weak but I don’t care, and why should I, why should I as long I can dream this gorgeous dream. 

At some point my hand is guided towards herself and who am I not to return a favour, how could I possibly not want to touch and explore her strange body myself, and before I know it, still pleasure drunk and light headed, I slowly move her hands away from myself, producing a gasp as her fingers exit me, and I mumble, “you said something about eating up”, and without needing a prompt, a confirmation or even a nod, I slide off her lap and kneel before her and put my hands on her knees, and I—

I wake up. Damn it all but I wake up. 

We are dressed, dry, and settled comfortably against each other. Or at least we were - I woke up so suddenly that I have sat up, prompted by the dream.

Same seems to be the case for her, for she is sitting at the very edge of the sofa, and when she looks at me, I can tell she is bewildered but I can't tell by what. By a dream of her own, I assume. Judging by the way she looks at me, however, it must not have been a gorgeous dream like mine. If anything, she looks horrified.

“... What?” I ask, feeling kind of dumb for not instead apologizing for having fallen asleep on her and furthermore baffled by how unapologetically shameless I feel despite having just dreamed of her, and having taken advantage of such a strongly lucid dream. I remember my manners. “Sorry. That tea... that’s quite potent stuff you got there.” 

“So it would seem.” She gets up and slowly walks away from me, and then back, pacing. I can tell there is something she wants to say, so I wait. I don't feel the need to ask anything and besides, my head is still kind of hazy.

She finally stops in front of me. A sort of accusatory look is in her eyes.

“... I could end your life anytime I please, should I want to.” 

It is not the suddenness nor the nature of the statement that surprises me. It is my answer, just as sudden, and ready. 

“I am counting on it, should it be necessary.” 

We stare at each other for a long while, both of us trying to make sense of it. I feel inexplicably sad about everything. 

"Sorry." I say again, not sure exactly why. Sorry for what? As my mind clears, I start feeling appropriately ashamed of the dream, and lower my head. She doesn't say anything.

"Well, I'm glad you can count on me."

When I lift my face to hers, she is smiling at me. I scoff.

"You are _so_ weird."

"You're the one to talk." She scoffs back at me.

I get up and nearly fall over but she must've been prepared for it, for she steadies me.

"As you said - potent 'stuff'." She help me stand on my feet and regain my balance.

"Thanks."

For a moment we are just standing there.

"I should go." I mumble.

"If you must." She replies.

I don't know what is it that's in the air but it is almost tangible.

"See ya." I say. She doesn't say anything but does something even better.

She smiles and waves at me.

So normal. So nostalgic.

So familiar.

I touch my totem and go home, greeted by the early morning. 

I miss her already.


End file.
